


Saturnalia Miracle

by spnsmile



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Action/Adventure, Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Ancient Rome, Apocalypse, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Christmas Fluff, Cults, Cursed Dean Winchester, Destruction, Dubious Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Extremely Dubious Consent, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Fucked Up, Fucking, Gladiator Dean Winchester, In Public, Jealous Castiel (Supernatural), Jealous Dean Winchester, Kidnapped Castiel, Kissing, Loss of Control, Love, Love Confessions, M/M, Master & Servant, Memory Loss, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Pagan Festivals, Pagan Gods, Paganism, Porn With Plot, Possessive Castiel (Supernatural), Possessive Dean Winchester, Post-Canon, Public Blow Jobs, Public Display of Affection, Public Nudity, Public Sex, Rape/Non-con Elements, Religion, Rough Kissing, Rough Sex, Saturnalia, Semi-Public Sex, Short Memory Loss, Slavery, Smut, Time Jump, Time Travel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Top Dean Winchester, Traditions, True Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-26
Updated: 2019-10-26
Packaged: 2021-01-03 08:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 20
Words: 183,100
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21176642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spnsmile/pseuds/spnsmile
Summary: Dealing with angry, horny gods isn't Dean's cup of tea, but being a supernatural hunter sometimes you get all the crazy. So when he is thrown in the chaos of pagan gods trying to finish what Chuck  began, Dean finds himself at the eye of All-Things-Fucked. From demons to old gods trying to get into him, the hunter ends up in Ancient Rome looking for Castiel who as usual dumps Dean behind when he knows the risks of going back in the old civilization where Saturnalia is celebrated and adorned. Feelings are reciprocated especially during the holidays.Castiel who became the High Priest with memories of Dean forgotten. Dean won't stop at anything until he gets his angel back. Not even when it costs him the Ancient world.





	1. Seize the Night

**Author's Note:**

> Oh yes, I had to edit some parts because mix up of documents but here it is! The idea of Ancient Rome has been on my mind for some time now, not to mention I love stories of mythology. It's a little stale, and I'm fixing that! But it's an adventure filled with love and uh, history. I may suck at some part, but it's a trial :)
> 
> thank you for spending time reading this ass of a fic ^O^
> 
> Note: This begins dark in Medias Res... middle of things. Then we go around of how Cas and Dean ends there from the present. Cas and Dean, in detail has to resolve what we vibed as lovers quarrel. It's a thing :)
> 
> Note: Thank you castielslittlesbee for the art! You're awesome hun! :)  
https://castielslittlestbee.tumblr.com/ art is so pretty I'm dying of it!

_from [castielslittlesbee!](https://castielslittlestbee.tumblr.com/) Bee! You are so awesome!_

**Prologue to an Epilogue**

* * *

_The Gods do not demand much of Man._

_Just the occasional offering or prayer, a bit of a nod on the appropriate festival day, respect toward their representatives at temples and altars where their own particular rites are performed._

_In the broad scheme of this life, the truth is that Man can get away with doing very little. In fact, it is common knowledge that those who do not honor to the life they have been given, who reign cruelly over others, often get away with it._

_Some might think that the Gods did not exist for all that the wicked run away with… but they would be wrong._

_The Gods indeed take notice. They walk among us… judge us. It might take a lifetime for them to take action but when they do… well, it casts a long dark shadow to think on it. One thing you can be sure of is that when Gods do take action, they do so with greater cruelty than any mortal is capable of, and it is more often than not the worst of our species upon whom they visit their savage lessons. _

** _-Adam Alexander Haviaras, Saturnalia_ **

* * *

_ **Carpe Noctem** _

* * *

Shadow lengthens over the winding streets as early evening settles on the ancient city of Rome. It casts a misty gloom to the busy main of towering structures boasting of finery for Rome as it is, is at the height of its power and much coveted by its neighbors because of its prosperity and splendor.

But hidden in the glory of the city lies the hovels of indigence and crudeness of the happy few. Behind its facet of sophistication lies the rawness and crudity of the minority who indulge the still primitive beliefs of slavery and poverty while others live so lavishly.

In its cradle live a man who is not quite like many. He doesn’t value Roman beliefs, doesn’t bend to their norms, and doesn’t live off seizing days as what’s been written for Romans to abide, but maybe just tonight, he will.

_Carpe noctem._

A naked man emerged from the backdoor of his small shack, contours of body glistening after a short bath with nothing save a drying rug on his shoulder. He moved about with rigidity in the small space that allowed one wooden bed and stone bench where he dropped his not too many belongings. He was a man of strong built, broad shoulder, firm muscle on every corner, tanned and toned skin mostly exposed as his daily work requires him to be always fit. Hair in hue of almond in broad daylight and blond wood by night fall. There were packs in his middle which didn’t shy away from exposure as he scratched his hipbone, running the dry cloth on his short hair, stepping around away from the door towards the corner of the room he considered most sacred. His thighs are molded like those of marble statues enough to warrant attention.

He stopped in front of a wall where pieces of vellum hung, the cloth falling around his shoulder again. The man reached a hand and touched the face staring back at him drawn in charcoal. The vellum he found months ago from one of the burned stores after the fire had served its purpose well. It now hung there with the image that haunted him ever since losing him in that jet of lightning. A portrait from his dreams. The man had taken every detail from the ashes to the intense eyes he was sorry he could not justify.

Familiar desire and longing sensation built in him. His angel still too beautiful even from his clumsy artwork. But he had captured most of the features from his sharp jawline to the arch of eyebrows that even he was satisfied, but it was too good and soon his hand was sliding on his hardening length. The man closed his eyes when his hands began working his erection, stroking wildly and scratching the burn itching in attention. He pressed his free arm on the wall to support his body and opened his eyes to stare at his god. Just this was enough to make him groan in release, his legs weakening at the outburst of come on the wall. The man dropped his forehead against the cool wall, pressing closer to the image he longed to encounter again. A week of labor just to get a chance to see his angel back again. Two days of living in hell on his own and here he is now, completely ready to take him back.

It was there on his skin, unseen by eyes. The mark of the man who gripped him from perdition. Except now, there’s an additional scar in there. A long spear scaling his handprint out like a cross. The mark of another god ready to claim him once this is done and over with.

Sighing against the cold wall, the man pushed himself away as he wiped his softening member with the cloth on his shoulder. He raised his head and reached for the armor hanging loosely on his right. He put on his loincloth then cingulum on his waistline covered in metal plates. The manicae strap on his shoulder was put next, then padding on his wrist and elbow. He wore the galerus shoulder guard with ease before finally wrapping his balterus around his waist for his weapon. Cooling his head, the man took his head gear from the stone bench, gave one last look to his muse on the wall and whispered in a form of silent prayer, and headed outside the gloomy dusk sky ready to swallow the intricate ancient city. He spies on dark clouds ahead and couldn’t help sending a prayer of gratitude to whoever heard it, his heart aching.

The winding streets of the capital is bustling with people from different classes. The roads allow access to different narrow passages that goes up and down in altering layers of rubble, cut stone and gravel to rest solidly on bedrocks. Etruscan knowledge certainly passed on these winding sections with tight stretched strings and tunneling situated in crossing valleys where most of the city stood among rich farmlands. The main city boasts of mason buildings from finely built temples for gods, the Forum Romanum in some distance, Flavian mcdomus on Palatine Hills and of course, the gigantic colosseums. Behind the architecture also assembles the market surrounded by insulas and stores. Foundries and smith’s shop with incessant hammering are also all over the city. Consumers all packed in groups on tents selling varied objects of clay vases, satin silks, crafted bronze, candles in different shapes, lamps and other ornaments.

The man moves about, going with the throng headed to the central forum where the public arena is located when his nose is assaulted by the smell of freshly baked pastries.

“Dean!”

The man in armor stopped short at the call of his name and turns to a waving man inside a taberna. The taberna is a counter directly on the sidewalk filled with jars containing drink and keeping food warm. Dean hesitated a little, before walking towards the counter, other men making way for him, watching him in respect for they know what is to happen that afternoon. The man behind the counter is Dean’s benefactor in terms of provision ever since he saved the man from two days ago. It feels like decades

Dean likes to call him Gracillis because the old man’s name is longer. He grins at his friend, placing a carefully padded arm on the table. Gracillis faces him eagerly with hands at the edge of the counter and gives him once over.

“You are off to a late start, lad.” Gracillis says with a press of lips, concerned on his eyebrows, “I haven’t seen you the whole day? You’ve been up there again, aren’t you? You really want to take the little mole up the hill than stay here in the city?”

“I really don’t want to impose, you already lent me one of your shacks. Also, I prefer to be on my own.” Dean says quietly, eyes not wavering. It was Gracillis who told him of that abandoned shack uphill where no resident in their decent mind would take because it is too far from the civilization and too favorable to any robbers to even consider. For Dean it’s the perfect spot from unwanted attention of Romans. Fighting robbers is nothing. Demons in robbers, now that’s a different thing. “You sure no one would mind me staying there?”

“Not even my grandfather’s soul, boy. Just take it up but don’t forget to come back here now and then. You be leaving your old shack?”

‘I’ve no possession to take with me.” Dean blinks at the baked pastry taken to the display area by one of Gracillis’ helper. The old man sees his eyes, laughs, and then offers Dean a slice.

The hunter grimaces. “You know—”

“I’m not asking for anything in return, I owe you enough.”

Dean doesn’t ask a second time and indulges himself gratefully, cheeks bulging that Gracillis stares.

“You really are peculiar.”

Dean tries to say something but the old man shakes his head, laughing.

“Nothing gets between a Roman and his meal.” He says squarely. Dean doesn’t mention he isn’t really a Roman but is glad when Gracillis doesn’t mention it. Between the two of them, Dean couldn’t be anything more like as people’s eyes here have shades of either dark, gray or blue.

Green is really something that Dean stands out the most.

“Thank you.” He tells the owner of the bakeshop as he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He can drink in one of those fountains later.

“Never mind. But where are you going so late?”

Dean falls silent for a moment.

“Home.” Dean mutters with eyes up the darkening sky. “I’m going home.”

* * *

Rain splatters on the once torch filled streets of Rome that only just celebrated Saturnalia, making the air cooler. Lights have been dampened, atmosphere chilling, but it doesn’t faze the soul of one man standing outside the barricaded gates of a grand temple housing the prominent priests of the land.

Water run down his soaked skin, his hair sticking to his face, his tunic all but dry. He waits in silent vigil, staring painfully still at the building opposite him where he knew the angel is resting. He had seen Cas come out of this place for the last two days in the same garment of white but hasn’t been able to speak with him. No one is allowed to reach the holy priests without some kind of rank or position. Dean has wall but let Bacchus lead him by the collar, not when the traitor only wants something from him. Whatever it is, he could careless… he only has one thing in mind at the moment and that’s to reunite with Cas. Even if it means appearing like a barbaric to the angel who may not recognize him. He has to try all his options. Two days of spying on the same household with routine that never varies, Dean knows when Castiel is allowed to go out to attend on a temple meeting or whatever it is those preachers do with their time, and also knows by heart that Cas is carried away from the house of pontiffs at midnight. He had followed where they take the angel only to end in another grand villa protected by more guards. With Roman guards are hot on his heels, Dean knows he cannot risk meeting the angel when he reaches his destination. Why the Romans are careful and quite keen on keeping Castiel guarded, the hunter can only think of one reason: because his angel is just holy like that.

But Dean has had enough waiting. He wants Castiel now and will make him remember. Anything longer than two days of separation is going to kill him. And like the god of bad deeds have been listening for the first time, shower of concealment shaded him from prying eyes of the Roman guards. That’s why he waits in the rain.

Rain splatters more heavily as night deepens. Dean has melted like a statue on the side of the wall when finally, he sees that familiar carriage he’d seen bear Castiel twice. He doesn’t know why the carriage has to carry Cas at midnight, but the opportunity is there when he sees the lone carriage with one Roman manning the two horses. He doesn’t question if Cas is inside, he has done his spying enough.

The gates opened and Dean agitatedly waits for it to reach his corner of the street. He watches the way how the cart slowly rolls to turn the corner and the moment it did, Dean does one of those stupid tricks of rolling on the wet ground, his head missing the wheels by a hairs strand as he latches himself under it. He’s a bit relieved to find the metal holding the four wheels together, though he’s very uncomfortable of the tremor it radiates to his body.

He hangs for dear life for what feels like a decade, careful not to make a sound though he is sure his extra weight must have startled the horses. Whether the person or people inside noticed, they didn’t show any sign of recognizing it. Dean stays silent for a moment, securing the grasps of his hands. When the carriage continues to be on his way, Dean sets his plan in motion. He releases one of his grips, then looks warily at the sharply spinning wooden wheels. Eyes insanely focused, Dean reaches the tip of his index finger towards the swirl—

Blood spills on the wet ground.

Dean grits his teeth as his own blood slides to his wrist. Not wasting time, he quickly draws a circle around the base of the carriage, adding enochian symbols that will hold Cas together because frankly, Dean doesn’t know how the Roman priests are keeping an angel of the lord without his memory calm and not smiting everyone.

“Sorry, Cas… gotta be sure you aren’t gonna smite me after this.”

He finishes the last symbol without a hitch, then closes his grip on the metal handles, feeling his left hand growing numb. Dean Winchester prides himself with his athletic and gymnastic skills but he’s been losing his touch that when the wheels hit on a stone, he unavoidably knocks his forehead on the platform. Dean nearly loses his hold but manages to cling for dear life.

Determined to hold on this time, Dean brings himself up the coach’s side. He swings his legs, avoiding any contact with the ground perilously as his tunic only covers most of his ass. The rain is unrelenting when he peeks up to the driver. Dean ducks back down, takes a lungful of air, before pulling himself up easily, taking a great leap beside the coach and kicking the Roman’s side who roars in pain—

But the man’s already flying and tumbling down the ground before he knows what hit him. Dean takes the reins of the horses, hears a pounding from inside the carriage, hears Castiel’s familiar gravelly voice asking what’s going on, sending current all over the hunter’s body. The angel isn’t thrashing the door open nor using his mojo which means the sigils are working.

Gripping the reins not really planning to let go, Dean roars for the horses to take the road leading to the dark hills.

It’s that night when Dean finally turns into a barbarian.

He likes that. He thinks Cas will like it too.

A sharp pound of fist on the carriage wall has Dean looking back to where the angel is contained.

_Or not._

***

Dean abducts Castiel. That’s how things will seem to the angel, Dean thinks, hating himself. But he’ll gladly turn into the villain if it meant saving the one that he loves from their fate. For one, Dean doesn’t trust those priests. He’s known enough corruption in the world to even think for one second they won’t want the angel for themselves once they find what he is.

Second, he doesn’t want to stay in Ancient Rome for long. He’s got enough gods claiming on his soul and threatening Cas to feel comfortable. He just wants out, but that includes dragging Castiel along, memory ridden or not.

He halts the carriage somewhere deep in the woods just behind the hills. The rain unable to penetrate the thick trees. It’s dark and eerie with what seems like millions of eyes in the darkness when Dean dismounts from the coach side, steps down, grabs his dagger and unties the horses, slapping one in the rear so it runs with loud neighs. Leaving him turning to the dry ground and stopping just outside the carriage door.

He can see Castiel’s glowing form from within, sitting still and waiting, blue eyes upon him inside the boxed carriage. The hunter doesn’t waste time, putting the dagger back in his belt pouch, he squares his shoulders, grabs the handle and pulls it open, revealing the celestial being inside.

It doesn’t surprise him to see the angel calm and collected as he sits there with curiosity in his eyes. He wears that ridiculously long priest garment that covers his entire being. Dean finds himself grateful to that. He is sure being under the house of gods has protected Castiel from harm more than he cares to admit.

Castiel doesn’t say anything when he sees him, just surveys him with those sapphires whose flicker of light coming from the brewing storm.

But the angel lets him stare.

“Who are you?” comes the question electric with warning.

“I’m not gonna hurt you.” Dean murmurs, hesitant to make any untoward movement.

“I saw my coachman fly off the window.” Cas reminds him quietly.

Dean tightens his lips, keeping a straight face because for brief seconds he was about to smile. Castiel does not show any sign of fear which means he is—has been well. That is good, but Dean has to take precaution because this is an angel caught in a net he’s facing.

Eyeing the angel, Dean pulls something from behind his tunic belt. Castiel watches him carefully when the man suddenly invades the space of the carriage—straight to the angel’s face. The angel is taken by surprise when Dean holds his gaze because the hunter knows every quirks of this particular angel. He knows everything about Castiel and the angel’s fondness of observing things he finds interesting and fascinating. That Castiel right now who does not show any sign of apprehension, only natural guard for he is a soldier of heaven, stares back deep in his eyes. The only opening Dean needs to take the angel’s wrists and handcuff him with Enochian sigils he made himself.

Castiel stares at the cuff at the clinking sound. The frown Dean expected comes and the hunter sighs. It’s easy, far too easy to capture an angel. But that is only because Dean knows this guy like the back of his hand. He watches Castiel pull on the chains like he expects them to fall, and when it didn’t, his eyes widen a little as he finds Dean’s eyes one more time.

“These are—"

“Enochian cuffs.” Dean says, can’t help fixing his eyes at the bewildered angel, “Seriously, Cas. You really let yourself be captured a lot this easy? No wonder I’m always worried when you’re not around.”

The angel stiffens. Dean sees him try the cuffs then looks up at him with a straight face.

“You know Enochian?” his gravelly voice still has that effect. When he doesn’t respond, Castiel’s eyes narrowed into a squint. “You’re a hunter.”

And still Castiel can figure him out. Warily, Dean reaches with the high priest watching his every movement. He doesn’t flinch when Dean takes hold of the small chain between his cuffs, but he didn’t move either when Dean tugs him to climb out of his seat.

“Move.” Dean begins, knowing this is going to be painful.

“No.” Castiel growls, blue eyes icy.

Dean stares at him and so did Cas.

“Cas—”

“It’s High Priest Castiel.” Because that’s how the land knows him. This is how this man should address him. “Speak to me with respect.”

Dean smiles like he remembers something but ends up pressing his lips.

“Right. Since when did you care about the local position, Cas? Angels don’t care. You’re above that. And I get why they make you a High Priest… all god knows you couldn’t be anything more, but you are. Now get your ass off the seat, it’s getting cold out here.”

“You know… what I am?”

“More than and so much, now c’mon, we don’t have all night.”

Castiel just stares at him, but Dean is more surprised when the angel does what he is told. Dean takes step backwards when Cas lands beside him, his long toga draping the ground. Both of them ends up eyeing one another, like falling into natural habits that makes Dean’s heart squeeze.

Not letting go of the chains, he points a hand at the angel seriously. “Don’t do anything stupid.”

“You’re the only one allowed to do that, apparently.” Comes the deadpan reply. Dean takes a moment, but before he can say anything else—Cas’ knuckles come from unexpected direction—knocking him on the jaw but not enough to have him on the ground. He tastes blood as his head swims for a second, before glaring back, prepared for another assault but Castiel doesn’t do anything else but stare at him coldly.

“That’s for my coachman.” Says the angel dryly just as Dean takes hold of his chains tight. He expects another attack, but the angel doesn’t seem about to which confuses him a little.

“That’s it?” he asks, somewhat disappointed at the lack of struggle. Castiel should be doing more. If someone else does this to the angel, Dean definitely wants him to fight more.

The High Priest arches eyebrows. “You want more?”

“You’re not fighting.”

“You’re not even holding a weapon against me.” He observes.

Dean blinks. He licks his lips. “Right.” Spitting blood on the ground, Dean tugs on Castiel’s chains again to see his reaction. Surprisingly, the angel doesn’t fight it and comes along behind him. The hunter doesn’t relax, always looking back to find Castiel just staring at him all the way out of the dark woods. He can see Castiel fine—the angel is emitting a glow only his kind can in the middle of the dark. Dean has trained well enough to see in the semi-darkness, but he’ us sure Castiel’s vision must be a lot better.

For what seemed like eternity, the two trudge on the solid ground in silence, only hearing owls now and then, rustle of leaves and light animal feet scampering away when they see them come, a pair of unlikely duo one as bright as the moonlight, the other no more than a solid shadow leading them out.

Castiel doesn’t seem interested in talking and its Dean who itches to give him details of why he is doing this and a lot more. But the angel doesn’t and soon Dean figures Castiel doesn’t really feel threatened despite the cuff. The angel is acting as if he’s letting this happen. That or he simply is curious of Dean’s purpose and believes he can get away whenever he wants to. Either way, it’s to Dean’s advantage, because having a hand-to-hand combat with the angel in a cuff or not wouldn’t be to Castiel’s advantage.

That’s when Dean also concludes that this is a soldier. Often times he forgets Castiel has battled friends and foes up in heaven and survive just to attend to Dean’s whims. Castiel is tactical and brave, a commander in heaven and that’s probably why he is so calm.

A battle genius and if Castiel remembers that as much, Dean should be the one reminding himself not to let his guard down. Dean doesn’t know if he’s the one unprepared for what Castiel has in mind, but one thing is for sure—he doesn’t get careless.

But he does ask the first question.

“For someone being abducted, you sure are quiet. Not gonna ask a question?”

“Are we still far from your place wherever it be? We’ve been walking for more than an hour.”

Dean smiles quietly. “No, just a little more.”

Silence again. Dean is still uncomfortable with the fact that here is the angel he's been wishing to have all to himself again. But couldn't say a damned thing. What sort of pussy is he? “You’re really not gonna ask uh…anything?”

Castiel doesn't look back, but Dean thinks he saw the angel's eyes roll when he heard him sigh impatiently. That's when Dean is reminded not to piss off the nerdy angel. He falls a step behind just in case. Castiel begins talking, his light footstep not even disturbing the wet ground.

“You want to say something, I’d like to listen. Someone with Enochian knowledge is rare—almost too inconceivable for me. And you act like you know me which warrants the next question—_why I don’t.”_

Dean stops without warning and it’s a testament how Castiel must be watching his every movement that he stops almost at the same time. Dean turns sideways to Cas, his left shoulder an inch away from the angel’s chest. He gives Castiel a look so meaningful he burns his eyes on the angel. Castiel stares back relentlessly steadfast, but after a beat, he blinks then tilts his head in such a fashion that makes Dean bite his lower lip.

“You also bear something in your soul. I think you know it. I think it’s why you need me.” The angel pauses, then does this squint when he straightens his head. “You are under a powerful curse.”

Dean cuts off the staring contest when he realizes they’ve both stopped for a long time. He huffs and tugs on the angel again, before starting his hike with the trees slowly clearing. They are almost at the mouth of the forest.

“I don’t need you for this curse.” He mutters, sure Cas heard him. “But I do need you to understand.”

“That is something for me to decide.”

Dean falls silent when they finally come out to the clearing. The rain has stopped, leaving the ground wet and slippery with the smell of fresh earth and trees lingering in the air. The moon shines with lingering black clouds eclipsing it every now and then. Dean breathes easier when after another fifteen minutes, they finally see the light of their destination. A small wooden house patched together waits for them at the top, above the uphill they are currently taking. The hunter looks back over his shoulder to Castiel who also sees the small house too with no change on his expression. Silently, the two covered the ten meters gap, seeing the small shack as it is covered in the middle of two trees. Dean sees Cas look at the rundown house to on all sides, before Dean is pulling him in.

The space is small but warm. It’s the lamp Dean checks first to see if it can still hold after setting it up before sundown, leaving Castiel staring around. After checking the lamp and setting it much brighter, the hunter turns to fully have a look at the angel standing in the middle of the only room in the house. It takes his breath away because he’s dreamt of this. Having Castiel again.

The high priest is already watching him quietly.

“Okay…” Dean says, stepping close and lightly pushing Cas back when the angel only follows the movement of his arm. Castiel topples back, doesn’t anticipate the edge of the bed hitting the back of his knees—ending him crashing down the soft blankets—and Dean saying—

_“Now take off your clothes.”_

* * *

Castiel just stares at him, unfazed. 

“_You’re messing up the sheets_.” Dean tells him, then turns his back like he isn’t threatened whatsoever. Castiel pulls back from the bed, looks down to where he falls, then back to the man. Dean is already stripping from his wet tunic, the lamp light catching on his glistening bare back showing well rounded muscles and finely curved lower back. But it isn’t this that captures the attention of the priest.

It’s the numerous old scars painted on his back like it’s a canvass. They web from his shoulder down to the small of his back, stretching to the sides of his ribs like he’s been tortured. There are scars larger than his whole fist smacked right on his right shoulder, making most of the sunspots on his skin disappear. The priest silently stares at the hunter whose appearance he only could see now in the light. Who is this man?

Castiel watches him more carefully.

Not three hours ago could he imagine himself in such a situation when all he muses about in the morning is the continued absence of the emperor and the number of temples that needed more attention from the citizens. Even being a High Priest, Castiel rarely worries of the world, truth be told. In fact, he rarely worries at all that for he knows he is quite different than mortals. Someone like him with ability how to see corrupted souls and sends dozen guards asleep with a simple raise of hand where light— _grace— _flow in his veins, he doesn’t fear any man.

This one, however, is different than any other man he has encountered. His soul is tarnished, that much is obvious, darker than any because he is cursed. But there is something about him that makes Castiel stay silent and just observed. Something about the man both familiar and alien, yet this is the first meeting. The first time he laid eyes on the man, Castiel was taken by surprise when he thought he was under attack from legions of horned beasts again. Imagine his surprise when he saw this man with those brilliant green eyes that doesn’t quite look forbidding.

Doesn’t look corrupted despite the cloud of darkness clutching his soul. That’s when Castiel finds himself completely calm. Not even when he gets cuffed or dragged around in the forest. Something about the man speaks to him of danger, yes, but underneath the blanketed front of masculinity lies something much more docile. It shows in his eyes, shows how much pain he is in every time their eyes meet. Castiel finds that very confusing.

And the man knows his secret. Something only few of the order of Pontiffs have glimpsed but could not actually name his being.

_Angel._ He knows Castiel is an angel. And for someone like him who has the power of heaven and earth in his hand, waking up with broken wings and no memory for six months, this man is a good start.

“What’s your name?”

The hunter flinches visibly as if the question hurts him.

“Dean. Call me Dean.” He says lamely, gruff on the edges without turning.

Castiel slips his legs down the floor, his long toga touching the cold floor, and then he freezes. He looks sharply at the hunter whose eyes have fallen on him the instant he feels the angel moving. Castiel looks down the floor where he can see familiar symbols written in blood. A sigil that contains even the most powerful of his kind trapped in one space. He turns to Dean again who crossed the room with only a piece of mantilla on his lower waist while the rest are for the world to see. Doesn’t matter how beautiful he is, Castiel feels a surge of familiar anger rise within him.

_“You plan to keep me?_” he asks, surprised that betrayal sings out of his tone when he doesn’t even remember trusting the hunter to begin with. But he couldn’t help it. There’s something about his eyes he wants to search in deep, but the idea of being imprisoned, Castiel feels like he is slapped in the face.

“For the moment, yes.” He replies quietly. “I just want to make sure you don’t hurt yourself. I can explain everything.”

“Let’s hope for both our sake this justifies the deed.” Castiel glowers, not pulling away as the man trains his eyes on him. “What do you want from me?”

“Nothing and everything.”

“I don’t believe the former.”

“Cas, look—” he stops when Castiel glares. “Castiel, fine. But would you believe me if I tell you we know each other? I know you’re smart—you know it the moment I told you I know what you are. You really think that just took a wild guess? And guessing from your reaction, you have plenty of question because yeah, I know you kinda lost your memory.”

Castiel stiffens. He remembers finding himself in this world so unfamiliar from what he could remember from the past. He does remember being an angel, it’s something innate and natural. But losing his wings? Walking the earth? Castiel isn’t foolish enough to question these. For all he knows, he could’ve been punished by the heavens.

Listening to this man layout Castiel’s buried concerns, his eyebrows furrow.

“You… know what happened to me?”

“I know what happened to us.” Dean’s voice turns grim, his shoulder hunching of guilt as he clasps his hands, “Cas… Cas this isn’t our world. We are from another time. We only came here because we have a mission and that’s to save our world… at least, you… I think you were trying hard enough to save me. This is all my fault.” Bitterness laces his voice and if Castiel isn’t too preoccupied of other revelations, he will admit he felt a little pang of concern for the man.

Castiel regards him, stands up from the bed, and tries the effectiveness of the sigil. The barrier holds him enough while Dean watches his movements.

“Where did you learn this?” he asks, walking around the bed slowly, knowing Dean’s eyes are on him.

“You taught me.”

Castiel glances back at him. “You think I’ll believe your word for it?” He and Dean both know it’s more than just the sigil. It’s about everything Dean is trying to tell him.

“Do you take me for a fool, Dean?” he asks, finally settling down at the edge of the bed, facing Dean this time, mirroring his clasp shoulder. He gives Dean his full attention, is surprised Dean isn’t even looking away, and just letting the angel see him. See through him. Like he knows Castiel can feel it. That this, whatever he is saying will be deemed the truth.

“I know you aren’t. That’s why you came with me despite the cuffs. Despite you not remembering me, because you’re not a fool, Cas. Although, if it had been another man who’d done this to you and you come with him just because you feel sorry for the guy—I’ll admit I’ll really get pissed.”

“I don’t feel sorry for you.”

“You say that.” The hunter chuckles with a small smile on his lips and the angel is surprised how it changes every features on his hardlined face. Like he has lived a very difficult life but still manages to smile so bright despite that darkness hanging in his soul. The angel can’t understand why he feels heavy. Why he wants to swipe that smear that blocks what could have been a very bright soul. Why something in him wants to reach out to Dean. Like he is getting sucked out of his vessel.

And that’s just from his small smile.

Castiel purses his lips. “Tell me.”

Dean blinks at the angel and sighs.

“You up for a long uh…. story?”

“I don’t sleep.”

“Okay… but I gotta tell you— it’s really long. We’ve come a long way from there to here.”

Castiel studies him for a second, couldn’t help but stare in those avid green that spoke to him more than anything, then narrows his eyes.

“Will you free me after this?”

Dean doesn’t look fazed by the question. He shrugs, then replies in all sincerity—

“I told you I’m only holding you because I want you to listen. I’m not going to hurt you, I swear, and after this and you still think differently of me, that’s okay. But I want you to know what we left behind and who needs you back in our time.”

“And it isn’t you?” Castiel knows with some respect how Dean’s eyes spoke of longing. He watches the hunter straighten his shoulder, his lips pressing tight together before he spoke again.

“Well… one thing about this is you don’t need to worry about me. I’m a dead man anyway.”

With that, Dean begins.


	2. Wrath of the Gods

**_Ira Deorum_ **

* * *

_The many times Cas chose Dean and that one time he finally didn’t__, _Dean drank himself into oblivion.

Two weeks ago, Castiel declared himself done and was out of his life for good. It was right after weeks of unresolved tension finally blowing up in their faces.

Dean had been too stubborn to stop him, enveloped by his own grief and pain of the tremendous loss and betrayal when Cas left him again. His resentment of the angel’s constant secrets and underhanded dealings like he didn’t trust Dean at all had reached its peak and the hunter was also done. Cas can damn shove his lies up his feathery ass for all he cared, can go sacrifice himself for the world for what he thinks will be good for it, but Dean won’t be found tagging along anymore.

So, he drank, killed, hunted and pissed every fucking supernatural being for weeks—and ended up finally facing Chuck in a showdown to kill Jack whom Cas chose over him. In retrospection, that Cas did. Chose Jack over him.

Dean couldn’t blame the poor guy, Dean himself wouldn’t choose _Dean— _not over anything. Except things happened fast—Chuck wanted Jack dead, the Winchesters found he’d been screwing with them the whole time, and then Jack was dead, Sam with a damning bullet wound and hell’s division cracking open, sending thousands of souls out to the godforsaken world.

_It was right into the precipice of the world-fucking-ending._

Fast forward, Dean and Castiel can barely stay in a room without the hunter giving him glares, snide comments, or worse the _cold shoulder_. Dean’s learned that from the best because John is never good with words either. And like his father, Dean also never minced his words. He wanted Cas to feel what he felt, wanted Cas to break because Dean’s broken in many ways that does not only involve Mary’s death but what he and Cas had in the family.

He wanted Cas to realize what he’d broken between them and did so viciously with words.

In the end, Castiel declared himself unable to cope with Dean’s new found way of tormenting him and was gone in a blink of an eye. Dean doesn’t remember the rest of it.

It took a self-deprecated Dean weeks to once again feel the gravity of the earth slamming him in the face. Took him a glance in the mirror, a bad hangover and nightmares to remember why he feels the end of the world more heavily than before.

_Cas. _

_Damn Cas leaving him. Cas left him. Cas’ gone. This time his choice._

Dean tries to shake the unsettling thought and focus on surviving daily. But it was bad, he was in a bad place and there’s just no light anywhere. He doesn’t dare pray to Castiel, afraid of the truth it would reveal—_that Cas would never listen._

It was no use trying to call the angel out when Dean himself is wrecked by what he’d done, what he’d said and what Cas had answered. It’s difficult to know who abandoned whether it’s Dean who kept pushing Cas on the edge after, or Cas when he walked out on Dean on Jack’s behalf. Or Dean lashing out at the angel who then would walk away every damn time like he hates Dean.

Maybe that’s just it. _Cas loathes him._

One thing was clear when Dean sobered up, staring absentmindedly at the chair inside his bedroom in the Bunker Cas used to occupy when Dean’s too busy but lets the angel watch him. Because Cas enjoys watching Dean, or as how the angel puts it—

_“You’re the potato in my eyes, Dean.”_

Dean bursts out laughing.

“That uhh…. ‘apple’, you mean _apple_, dude?”

“Apple… apple in my eyes, Dean.” Cas amends slowly, making Dean grin.

“You know what? Never mind.”

“Is this expression used because humans in general liked apples? Because if it’s about liking I’ve always liked potatoes and… ketchup.”

“Sure, yeah, uh—I’m no longer sharing Lays with you, man. But… you uhh—you like me, Cas?”

“Of course, Dean. I should think it obvious by now.”

“Yeah, glad you think highly of me as a spud, too, buddy. Really heart fluttering.”

Cas wavers in concern.

“I hope this heart diagnosis is another expression?” he demands.

Dean chuckled and beckoned the angel to sit with him by the headboard of the game to look at the cities he’d been monitoring for supernatural reports. He never forgot the excitement that bubbled from his gut when he felt the bed dip, tried not to get caught up in the moment at the casual pressure of Cas’ shoulder against him and tried not to think how Cas is on the bed with him.

How the angel easily trusts him. How Dean hides this small smile and edges closer, heads close.

_How he fucking loves Cas without the angel knowing._

_Or maybe he does._

Who would have thought Cas would abandon him?

But then—_who wouldn’t?_

Dean’s a fucked-up person, he knows that at the core. He was at his darkest hour when all he wants to do is blame and hurt. No angel in sight only adds to the load of being unable to control his life shackling him, guilt and betrayal combined and pulling him down whenever he tries desperately to breath.

_Everybody he loves leaves him._

The only one able to really make him care is Sam because Sam is too good-of-a-brother and shines like that. Always Dean’s compass for survival because they are in this together. Sam who obviously tries to hide his own pain when he thinks Dean is not looking. But Dean’s attention is all too focused on him now that everyone else in their family’s _gone_.

Sam’s the only one he’s got and it pulled on Dean’s nerves to see Sam him in pain and wouldn’t even talk to him about it. The bullet is taking its toll, Dean can see that. Every day is agony, every day Sam changes. Dean remembered Sam during his trials. How weak and pale he’d become, acting like everything’s okay and this scared Dean. Sam bearing the pain on his own, the selfless maniac that he is, Dean’s spiraling down even more. Sometimes he’ll wake up wondering why it wasn’t him, why he didn’t pull the trigger really, or why it had to be Sam when there were other fuckers out there more deserving. Because living is underrated and dying is no different.

They may have_ lived_ to tell the tale, but he feels more dead than usual.

But he gotta stow his crap, right?

One night, Sam wakes up screaming. Dean didn’t need to know what his brother dreamt about. The moment he crashes the door of Sam’s room, his giant-moose of a brother looks inches smaller on the floor, took one horrifying look in his direction like he can’t see him proper, and then reaches forward and holds Dean like he’s seeing a ghost.

Sam’s frantic. Even scared and that’s saying something for Sam Winchester who gave Lucifer a run for his money many times without cracking to the devil. Sam said something about killing someone, killing Dean, and that’s enough for Dean to sober up.

Sam needs him. _Sam’s in fucking trouble and _Dean’s gotta pull a _Dean Winchester_ on his bleeding-heart cause dammit, Dean will never forgive himself if anything happens to his younger brother.

Two days later with his head cleared, emotions untangled and priority straightened, he grabs his phone, rubs it with his thumb when he finds the number he’s looking for, and then messages Cas the first time. He’s gonna grovel to him—to anyone—to everyone—heaven, hell, gods, angels just to save his brother. He doesn’t care. Dean’s not the important one, right now he’s only a living mess after everyone else.

It doesn’t surprise him when he doesn’t get through the whole day. But three days?

One message out of the fifty calls and messages that never received any response. But Dean’s desperate and if Cas is going to ignore him again, Dean isn’t above forcing Cas inside a holy fire. He doesn’t tell anyone that, not even Sam, but he’s got to know if Cas is willing to help him even after all things have been said and done. Cas may resent him, but he’s sure Cas’ relationship with Sam was never as severed.

And honestly, Cas is the only one he’s thought first when he realized Sam is in trouble. So he messages him, hoping he’d get an answer. That he can get anything.

_-Cas?_

_-Cas. Where are you?_

_-Cas, I need your help. It’s Sam._

_-Cas, you got news about Chuck? Call me._

_\- I’m serious man. I need info and the angels aren’t helping_

_\- Cas, Sam’s been seeing visions. I think it’s the bullet wound. He jokes it’s some kind of Harry Potter connection, but to who? To Chuck? Cas, I need you here, man._

_\- Where are you?_

_\- You’re a dick too, you know that?_

_-Cas? If you don’t want to help me fine. Just tell me what you know. Help Sam, please._

_\- Cas, Sam needs you._

_\- Fuck you, Cas._

_\- Cas._

_\- Cas, I don’t know what to do anymore. Sam says he has to go away coz he thinks he might kill me. I told him he’s an idiot. He’s calm now but I don’t know if he’s just going to bolt away… Cas help him please._

_\- Cas, please…_

_\- Cas, don’t do this…_

_\- Cas… I’m scared for Sam… where are you, man?_

_\- Cas I’m desperate. Don’t do this._

_\- Cas, I heard from another angel, Sister Jo? She said Chuck’s in this world. I’m gonna fucking hunt him in it’s the last thing I do. Hope I don’t get my hands on him first._

Not a minute after and Dean’s phone vibrates. Weeks without a sign of existing and Castiel’s name flashes on Dean’s screen while he’s moping over his laptop. The hunter quickly swipes the message, eyes wide when coordinates are given and two words:

_\- See me._

Dean doesn’t say anything to Sam except a mumble of ‘hunt’ and covers that 6-hour drive to Bertlett, Kansas. He reaches the city around dusk and locates the exact place in the middle of the night, hope filling his heart.

Because that’s what Cas is to him.

_Hope. _It’s real.

* * *

Rumble of engine warbles in the middle of the woods. From beyond the empty highway comes blinding blaze of twin headlight from afar, scattering shadow on corners as it comes closer. There’s a long wait before it slows, stopping abruptly when it reaches the end of the lane, sharply taking a turn and grinding the wheels on the unpaved ground, stones crushing on its weight.

Everything stills when its engine dies, leaving the unblinking bright lights.

The door snaps open and a silhouette of a brawny man steps out, heavy boots sinking on earth. His almost too sharp jaw angles as he looks around, hands rummaging for a handgun from behind. He takes a small flashlight on another pocket and points it ahead, to where he apparently is headed.

He looks behind him, then slams the driver’s seat close like thunderclap that echoed in the abundance of dark trees. He steps forward, his shadow growing when the headlight hits his solid form. The man looks behind him again, his green eyes catching the light which glint in vigilance. Darkness creeps in his surrounding, rustle of leaves making everything a little more eerie, but he’s used to that since he’s 8. Always the only one up at night while his younger brother sleeps peacefully, dutifully doing the older brother’s role as the sentry. He’s seen things in the dark not many can even imagine. Hunted them even and learns along the way that darkness isn’t his enemy. It’s a bitch, sure, but can also wrap him in comfort when he needs a place to quiet his mind.

And for Dean Winchester a quiet mind is always a problem but he’s learned to cope up his way.

_Hunt, hunt, hunt._ It always helped.

He scans the vicinity, flash light on. His eyes fall on the lone structure in the middle of nowhere. A large one-story high building of an old abandoned church stood long and derelict with its unpainted walls graying in the dark and tall windows almost as high as the trees. Frowning, he steps closer, jaw tight.

It isn’t the thought of going there alone that makes his shoulder tense. It’s the fear that maybe he will find it empty. His chest clenched. He doesn’t want to. Not empty, please. Because he’s been waiting for this moment ever since he let _him_ go. The one who said he’d never… that he’d always be there watching him till the end, only to abandon him in the middle because things got rough.

_Don’t fucking blame people for leaving crap like you. You deserved it._

Dean shifts to the side, expression deadly. He can’t afford anything jumping him, make him look like a piece of meat. He gotta reach inside in one piece if he wants to make an impression—an impression that he can take care of himself anyway. He doesn’t know what he wants to prove—that he can manage on his own? That he’s still fucked whole even when cracked on all sides? He doesn’t know.

He just gotta reach him and say his piece. And the angel just gotta listen.

Dean still remembers him walking away after the fall out. It had been one of their worst fight and words were said unintentionally. Then the angel bolts, declaring he needs time away from Dean. Breaking Dean in pieces he doesn’t even realize until it’s too late. But he doesn’t follow nor beg for him to return. Being a Winchester, seeing people wash their hands of them, he’s used to that. For a long time, he thought his own father did, so a best friend is no exception.

But his resolve to see the angel is paramount.

So, he is tense, much tense than sneaking inside vampire nests or caging any demons spawn.

He reaches the dusty top steps and slowly pushes on the wooden door that creaked in the silence. Murky atmosphere greets him, more cloud of dust fills his eyes. He pushes forwards, making his steps as cautious as possible and looks around, flash light working.

Nothing could be seen on the walls of shadow except cracked walls and broken windows. He flashes on the aisle leading to the altar where more clutter meets his light from candle pieces, broken bottles and rags on a cobwebbed mahogany table sitting on the middle. Hanging above it is a large empty crucifix surrounded by arching gigantic Roman pillars that once must be magnificent. Even that is abandoned.

But there’s no one in sight. Dean flashes the whole four corners with no angel on sight.

“Cas?” he calls softly, eyes darting everywhere.

As if in answer, the whole ground jolts with a rumble, shaking the hunter off balance. Dean blinks in alarm, a hand raised to keep himself on his feet. Then nothing. Ten full seconds go by, then another jolt. Dean curses and presses his back on the wall. He keeps wary eyes around, wondering if he’s fallen into a trap. Was it an earthquake or something more? Dean grits his teeth when another shake has him pointing his light up at the ceiling. Where the hell’s Cas and what’s happening?

More importantly, how sure was he it was Cas who messaged him in the first place? The idea Cas got in touch at all has him spinning out of his chair to reach him. Wanting to see the angel once and for all before he chokes in misery.

Thinking about it now, he couldn’t help berating himself for acting like an idiot. Of course, this was a trap, and of course it wasn’t Castiel. Cas has made up his mind to leave him forever—

Another shake and then there’s a distinct sound of trees crashing outside. Dean blinks in the silence that followed, then he shoots himself out to the other side of the room to a broken door leading outside to the neck of the woods. Nightlight surrounded him and he’s suddenly deep within the trees.

But Dean’s eyes catch something at the far end of the woods, a familiar glow of light unlike any he’s seen. Warm and beckoning, illuminating everything else that is dark and Dean is mesmerized. He finds his feet striding quickly to reach it, not really clear what’s making his heart skip a beat.

He reaches the edge of the woods and the glowing figure finally comes into being. But Dean couldn’t have reach further because of the huge chunk of earth missing under his feet. _What the hell?_

He flashes light on the ground, follows where the cracks start and end, only to get a bigger picture of a large crater almost five feet deep before him. Like the earth has been punched by a giant. In the middle of it stood the glowing figure of an angel so familiar to the hunter even when his back is turned. Who wouldn’t recognize that trench coat?

Dean stares for a moment at the ghost-like being enveloped by that holy light. It reminds him that this here, before his eyes is an angel who can easily overpowers him if he wishes to. That he’s been under his mercy. No, that’s wrong.

_This is Cas._

The angel’s head moved sideways, his familiar unkempt, bed hair still with a life of its own and sticking in directions. Seconds later, Dean’s sliding down the crater and is walking towards him. His footsteps make the most beat, crushing rocks along the way. It’s unbelievable how much the tension seizes the air when they aren’t even looking at each other. But Dean’s eyes are intent on the back of the angel’s head, unafraid and determined enough to give tension on the angel’s shoulders.

He stops right behind him, shifting his feet but his green eyes are only on the angel. He has to take several deep breaths because make no mistake _he is beyond angry_. It radiates from his body, pursed lips, his expression, yet there’s something more. Something akin to _nostalgia_. The overwhelming emotion surprises him. Annoyed, frustrated—maybe even punch Cas in the face. It might be painful, but it will assure him the angel is really there. This is real.

Dean lowers his eyes a little, trains his eyes on the spot lit by his flashlight on the ground. He told himself before going here he won’t lash out on Cas. He won’t make things worse. He will make things peaceful because a month without Cas can be revealing. He clasps the flash light, then flexes his free hand on his thigh. His insides are squirming, he realizes. He can see Cas from the corner of his eyes and the angel still hasn’t moved so Dean waits.

He waits by counting to five, then decides to make it ten.

After fifteen and twenty passes and nothing still happens, Dean throws a glare at the angel. He waits for the angel to say his name actually, almost too hopefully. Cas always put reverence on his name and Dean’s ready to hear it again. Whether Cas is angry or frustrated with him, even when the angel says it exasperatedly or when he only calls Dean’s name out of habit, Dean wants to hear it now more than ever.

Nothing came. Silence stretches. His patience growing thin.

He frowns at the angel who could be mistaken for a perfect marble statue. Cas doesn’t need any light, his very being shines like moonbeam, skin glowing faintly. A holy blend of everything Dean ever wanted to see. It’s weird how spikes in his heart vanish by just seeing Cas finally turn his way.

And it’s absolutely penetrating when those blues turn to him, steady and electrifying, like the first time Dean has seen Cas enter that barn years ago. Captivating and mesmerizing. The last time he saw that, Cas told him between labored breaths how things weren’t working out between them. How things had to end somehow before walking out of Dean’s life.

He stiffens.

“I’m not going to apologize.” Dean says straight and blunt.

“I’m sorry to hear that.” Cas replies sourly in his familiar gravelly voice. “I never expected you to.”

“Swell, so this meeting is—uh— what? Pure business meeting?”

“You have to clarify it for me. What is the matter with Sam?”

“About that—_what the hell, Cas?”_ Dean couldn’t help it. He is a man on a mission always functioning best with emotion at his disposal. “I’ve been trying to reach you for weeks and you only answer now? What’ve you been up to? Busy making a punching bag of the third planet like you’re some kind of Armageddon?

There’s an impatient sigh.” I didn’t come here to listen to your bullshit, Dean.”

Dean’s tongue latched on the roof of his mouth. His green eyes wide. He can’t see Cas’ face but the edge in his voice is too obvious. Dean have never seen Castiel so furious with him… It seems despite everything he hoped against, Castiel is really done with him. Dean wavers for a second but got a grip of himself. It doesn’t matter. This is about Sam.

Castiel seems to read his mind so he turns a little on his shoulder.

“What has happened to Sam?”

“You gotta fix him—”

“You sure you can trust me when it comes to Sam?” boldly faces him, both hands coolly inside his trench coat. Dean would’ve punched Castiel’s pretty face if not for the memory of his bones cracking the last time he did. His intent and anger must’ve shown because Cas’ blue eyes move to his clenched fist without a change in his stoic expression. Their eyes clash.

“Finally became a dick, have you?” he growls.

Cas doesn’t like that with how his eyes narrowed.

“Was that supposed to be surprising? You’ve been labeling my kind with degrading epitaphs like you humans are any better.” His voice is calm but its effect on Dean is tumultuous, “I am not going to try and convince you. I already spent years doing that and still— here we are. We both think differently, it seems. We’ve always been like this from the beginning. We don’t balance each other. We only serve each other’s purpose. That’s why I came. You sought me now because I have a purpose to give and you have information I require. Let’s get this over with.”

Dean stares at the angel.

“Cas… don’t be like this man…”

When Castiel only gives him a deadpan look, Dean receives the message. Cold shoulder is something Castiel shouldn’t do… Cause Cas is good and warm. Dean blinks. He doesn’t understand why there’s a strain in his eyes but he looks away and clears his throat. Castiel lets him get his shit together

Gritting his teeth, he stands his ground. Shoving away the crushing hurt in his chest, he mechanically schools his face to mask his pain.

“Yeah. Okay. I get the game.” He clears the lump forming in his throat. He can get pass this.

“How is Sam?”

“Yeah, he’s… he’s not doing good.” He relates the damage of the bullet wound to which Cas seems unsurprised. But Dean gets lost in his worry about Sam, showing immediately when his voice cracks at the part after the nightmares. “He just... just clings on me like there isn’t any ground to stand on… like jelly legs I told him… but it ain’t funny.”

He shivers at the memory.

“I’m not laughing.”

“I can give you a better picture if I’m not too worried… that’s why I wanted to talk. So I hunted other angels ‘round and this Sister Jo said they’ve seen sightings of him here. Still in this world. Made me think maybe you’ve got work progress. What’ve you got?”

Cas stays silent for a while, only watching Dean. Nothing changed with Cas in terms of his overly active blue eyes that can smite holiness if met. They are still as intense as ever.

“The angel radio does not broadcast everything in case God’s listening, but I have been working with them since the beginning.” He admits. Dean’s eyes widened but Cas shakes his head. “No, he’s still out of radar. But the fact that he still lingers suggest something must be stopping him. Or he isn’t finished with us. Take your shit.”

Dean would have laughed at the incorrect word for ‘pick’ if not for the chill running down his body. He takes the news slowly, his shoulders hunching a little. He isn’t very hopeful of finding Chuck on his own without help. Even Sam’s told him to give up but where does that leave Sam?

“Cas.” Dean breathes, a lungful of air, desperate. “I need your help. We gotta find him.”

“That is my goal. Right now I am the only one capable of doing that.”

“That’s why. So if we work together—”

“No.”

“— I’m sure we can make do of something, we got plenty of books in the bunker we haven’t sorted through and you can go to heaven again and—”

“I said _no.”_

“What d’you mean no?” snaps the hunter. Cas doesn’t bother to look at him.

“I don’t think I can work with you right now. Not with this. Not like this.”

Dean blinks. It doesn’t initially register, but when it does, Dean just stares at the angel. Castiel doesn’t explain though. He just gives Dean a solid look of an angel already done with the conversation. Somewhere in his unresolved temper, the hunter feels his anger resurfaces.

“Cas—this isn’t for me—this is for Sam!” he nearly shouts, finding the gut kicking realization Cas doesn’t want him—doesn’t want anything—anything to do with him anymore. A sucker punch would be too light a description. Dean stares at him in disbelief. He watches the angel not reacting to the change of tone or lash of air. Apparently, Castiel has had enough.

“I know, and I can help you. I will not abandon Sam, but we can’t work together.” Cas says firmly.

“Why?” Dean says, almost like a challenge and he takes a step forward.

Castiel only cocks his chin.

“We don’t work, you and I. We only hurt each other. So, no.”

Dean gets another first time of Castiel rejecting his offer and it unhinges him. The Castiel he knew was different. The way they were before was different so which means the only thing left are the things they alienate themselves with. Sam and Dean, the Castiel who smiled too endearing enough when he decided he wants to become a hunter when he turned human. Cas who’s always a step behind Sam and Dean, always getting their back. Dean’s loss of words to say.

But Cas said he won’t abandon Sam, that is a relief.

Dean, though?

_Did he… did he really break Castiel that much? _Because he sure is breaking Dean now.

“Don’t give me that crap, this time we gotta shove and help Sam, y’hear? And I’m not asking.”

“I don’t care.” Cas’ tone turns icy cold it shakes Dean. “I will help Sam. But I refuse to work with you.”

“Cas if you think I’ll just sit around—

“I don’t have control over what you do with your time. I don’t work with you.”

Dean pauses.

Well, fuck.

Shifting from one foot to another just staring at Castiel. It’s funny how Cas’ sincerity is hitting him now despite the lack of emotion. Because Castiel’s eyes spoke volume and it’s only telling him one thing: _go to hell._

Dean swerves, pressing his lips tightly. This is all wrong, yet all so deserved. Dean knows when he is unwanted. He just had to try… because this is Cas.

“Got it.” He begins nodding, not looking Cas in the eye. “Fine.”

“It’s better if you stay with your brother. Keep an eye on him and stop making people worry.”

“Well, you gotta stop dipping your fingers where I don’t want em’.” Dean grumbles, aware of Cas’ eyes on him. But he gets it. Cas is still asking for time-out even when Dean’s begging. That says a lot. And Dean’s done trying to rope people in his—Dean’s choices and wants. They deserve better than get chained to him anyway. Castiel has finally learned his lesson. Finally is fucking leaving Dean where he belongs. All by himself. The cold that hits him had nothing to do with the night wind.

“You better get back to your car.” The angel says more than suggests. So this is the end of the meeting? The hunter turns his body away, in all intention to walk away because that’s what he’s supposed to do.

“One thing?” he stops. He can feel Castiel’s eyes still on him. “Don’t kill him. I don’t want him the way you’re thinking served on a stick and burning.”

There’s a long pause.

“You want to talk to Chuck.” Cas surmises.

Dean harks a harsh chuckle.

“Yeah, in the end it’s all about begging him, isn’t it?”

Cas doesn’t answer.

“I know you’re thinking what the hell’s wrong with me—” Dean whirls, finds Castiel really still lingering on him, deep blue unblinking he even looks solemn. “But it’s all I got. I’ll beg him—I’ll let him control whatever control he wants from me—but he gotta save Sam.”

Dean hates himself when he feels his eyes sting with unshed tears. He refuses to blink because if he did, Cas will have a full view of him crying and Dean Winchester won’t. Not like this when this might just be the last time Castiel will see him. Dean will show him he won’t crumble. Not for himself at least. For Sam.

“It won’t work.” Castiel suddenly says. He looks calm and peaceful, like he’s realized something profound and is working his way towards it. “Asking him for anything, it won’t.”

“We won’t know till I talk to him in person. He—the guy used to like me and my brother.”

“It’s useless. Relinquishing yourself to someone who owns you from the beginning— don’t you think death is more appealing? Sam’s better off dead.”

“Cas.” Dean growls.

Castiel just stares at him while the hunter takes threatening steps forward, enough to see Castiel up close. He fucking better have an explanation for those words.

“You think us dead is the only solution?” Dean hisses, “If that’s how you’re thinking now then you’re no different to everyone else who only sees one way out without putting up a fight! I will beg Chuck and thats’not because _I am givin up! _It’s cause I want to keep a life! To live another day to fucking fight! Keep the life of my brother who doesn’t deserve all that fucking pain by himself! If it’d be me I’d gladly do a switch! Because Sam deserves better, y’hear!? He deserves better than just dying— it should’ve been me and I won’t regret a second of it!”

“I know you won’t. But what will that accomplish in the eyes of god?” Dean is stumped when Castiel meets his eyes squarely, “Both you and Sam will still be in pain for the other doing the same thing over and over. Don’t you get tired of that?”

“At least Sam is safe!” Dean blurts before he can stop himself.

Cas opens his mouth, then closes them as if changing his mind. _Dude, stop counting my freckles, _he wants to say then stops himself. It only just dawns on him how close they are standing just now. Dean huffs and steps away, aware how the space has become too thin between them when they’re not even the same anymore. Not the same.

Castiel doesn’t change his mind.

“Y’know what? Fine. I don’t care if Chuck screws with me again, I’m gonna get Sam what he needs whether you help me or not!”

“I will help Sam.” Cas says simply and then there’s just silence. Dean wants to hear more, wants to cling to the idea that Cas will give him hope. That they can get through this, but they don’t. Cas doesn’t.

Dean hesitates, a number of things wanting to tumble out of his mouth. He didn’t realize how he’s been holding his breathe just staring at the angel. Wanting to tell him many things but Sam goes first. About how he misses Cas, about how they can put everything behind them if they chose it, about how they can work around this shit because he can’t think of anything other than _how he wants Cas to love him again._

Cas is too far away.

He can’t see it anymore in that grand blue. All emotions he takes for granted to bask on, all gone in a single snap of finger. Like it’s been switched off. Was it easy like that for angels? Turn their emotions off?

But Dean’s gotta try. This is his last chance.

“Cas… _please…”_ Dean whispers brokenly, wanting to reach out when he feels the end of their hour approaching but Cas does not give a damn. The angel only looks away.

“You should go.”

Dean inhales heavily and looks away too.

“Sure. Whatever.”

Dean squares his shoulders when he turns and stalks off, out of Cas’ warm presence, trudging on the hard crater as he pulls himself up the slope, on to the space of the woods he remembers coming from. He crossed the dark trees without bothering to slow his pace, he’s sure no one’s following him. Castiel didn’t call him back nor did the angel follow him. Heart crushing, he stumbles and ends up running.

This is their goodbye.

He clambers in the impala, pulls on the soil curb, and hurtles his baby away without glancing back.

After an hour of drive and three changes of direction, Dean can’t stop gripping the wheels, his face tight, hands numb. The darkness of the wide world seemed more daunting than before and Castiel is a dick. His phone doesn’t ring because of course, Castiel is beyond doing that now. Dean has known falling in love with an angel was bad news from the get-go. He knows it will only bring him too much shit because Castiel who he finds too easy too love, is also too fucking finished with him. And that’s where Dean’s misery begins, being in love with an angel is far more complicated than catching a shooting star.

But this isn’t about their love, he figures.

This is about the universe fucking with them just cause.

Dean would have fought more, if only Cas showed any sign he wants too.

His phone rings and Dean quickly fishes for it in spite of himself. His shaking hand caused the phone to fall with a sad thud on his legs down the floor. Cursing, the man leans down, head up on the wheel. His big shoulders didn’t make it easy. On the fourth attempt, he cranes his neck and looks down. He grits his teeth annoyed more than ever when he claws on the floor of the car—like Cas is gonna call him, that baby. Dean manages to take a full grab, but all his asperity disappeared when he blinks up the front road and notice someone standing in the middle of the road.

Dean swerves automatically, phone forgotten as it flew out of his grip. Tires screeched but Dean tries not to crash on the rock wall to his left—leaving only the edge of the road to his right. His headlight isn’t even enough to see beyond the railings and heading straight to a cliff.

Dean hits the breaks, all pain shooting in his body as he pulls the car into a deafening screech. For a full minute everything spins with his eardrums split. He thinks of Sam for a minute, about how the fuck he’s gonna explain if this goes bad—how he’ll probably jump out of hell to tell his brother he’s still gonna help him even as a spirit. He will not forgive himself for damaging Baby though.

Dean’s shoulder hit all sides of the car door, his ass left his seat as the car gave lurch forward, head bumping on the wheels—everything seems endless for a full second.

Then it all stops.

Dean breaths hard after realizing he’s been holding air in his lungs. He shakes dizziness out of his eyes. Crap, that was close. He takes a lungful of air just to calm himself.

The car has stopped at the side of the railings, the headlights giving him a good view of the curved road. His sweaty hands are latched on the wheel, heart still racing and lips still dry. He knows he isn’t dead and dying by road accident seemed so stupid anyway so Dean forces himself to relax. He checks his bad leg, grits his teeth at the pain, and tries to sit a little straighter. He was glad Sam wasn’t with him. Sam will most definitely never let him hear the end of this. Dean leans back, feeling his shirt too sticky from sweat, his tense shoulders slowly slumping down.

Then piercing silence. Dean asks himself why he was there in the first place. He is running away from Cas, that’s why. That opened another question of why Cas is letting him? After everything he and Cas went through, after all the apologies and forgiveness they shared, for Cas now to give up on him? Because that’s exactly it. Cas _finally letting him go._ After his major pull from hell, Cas now has decided Dean’s not even enough to go back to. Dean nearly chuckles because it took the angel long enough to realize he isn’t even worth the save. He knew all a time like this would come, for Castiel to finally what a piece of something Dean really is. See him from the human that he is.

_A piece of shit really._

Dean gulps. This time it catches on his throat. That’s when Dean snaps out of it.

Cursing, he leans down to get his phone, just at the footrest of the car. Then takes his flashlight from the glove. He then forces himself out of the car, anger boiling in his own stupidity and willing to strangle himself if baby has any scratch. He limps out, not even caring of the dangers lying in the dark as he flashes at baby left and right. He limps back into the hood and bumper, then the tires. He sees the burn out black rubber sticking on the tires’ edges. Dean shakes his head at the damaged but avoids any impulsive kicking on his bad leg, almost hearing Sam’s warning voice and Cas calling his name. He looks at the shotgun and sees it empty. The backseat usually taken by Cas’ figure or Jack’s is well empty too.

Dean stares, then blankly looks down the ground.

That’s weird… he’s starting to hear voices. Maybe he’s dead?

Dean kicks the impala hard and the shivers it sent his already injured leg sends him leaning on the hot hood. He ignores the heat on his palms as he leans there for another full minute, trying to muster his anger and the feeling that has been gnawing on him ever since he’s able to cope up with his mom and Jack dying. Ever since Chuck took out the lights, Dean’s been having nightmares worse than when it all started with Mary gone. It never stops getting worst. He’s always on his own, thrashing under the sunless sky and sinking deeper into a black lagoon without anyone to hear his cry. Because he is on his own.

He’s not dead.

But he’s alone.

Never better than dead anyway.

Dean sees teardrops on the hood of the impala. Finds himself biting his lips and stifling his sobs. His weak knees give away, finally finding himself sitting down the hard ground with knees bent down in his front. He just finds himself that way with the back of his hands covering his eyes, back on the bumper of baby.

Somehow in the stillness of the night, the broken sound he’s making is like company. He’s heard that often enough on his own like his very own playlist that never cease to break his heart. Why was his leg so painful? Why was his whole body shaking? Must’ve hit his head pretty bad, he’s sure there’s bruising somewhere. His face is damp and he tries his best to dry them again and again using the collar of his shirt, but the overbearing pain inside his chest got him clutching his face in the end. He feels pathetic. In retrospect, he has never felt great, not for a long time anyway, so what’s the point? Finding himself on his own without the family he’s built around him, the family he swore to protect gone in a snap of some god whose been playing with all their lives, what’s the point in living?

Why does this god find joy in his misery?

Dean opens his eyes at the heavens and only sees pitch black.

The thought of being alone now sharply sinks in him coldly. Real. His loneliness is real. And Castiel who doesn’t give a damn. It didn’t take Dean long to realize Castiel hasn’t called his name once in that brief meeting. Castiel loves his name. He didn’t say it.

_Dick._

A broken sound slips out of his lips but he swallows the rest next. Heart pounding, he reaches for the phone. So much missed opportunity, and still they’re fighting over who gets to fight the last battle instead of sticking together. Instead of staying together. Instead of many things… this.

Castiel’s voice mail answers him and Dean inadvertently chuckles.

_“Hey, dick.”_ He begins, knowing Castiel will probably shut his phone the next second— “No—wait, Cas, sorry… that’s not…” his mouth dries quick and it takes him succession of gulps before he manages his voice again. “Look… I’m sorry… I… I’m the dick, alright? I just… look I just gotta make sure Sam’s safe, you… you of all people understands that… you know me, Cas. Nothing… nothing I wouldn’t do for that kid. I…” he leans his forehead on his arm, thinking of his own brother, voice barely a whisper, “I can’t lose him, Cas… please… I… I already lost mom…” this time his voice cracks and the tears are unstoppable. He doesn’t hide the distinct sniff even when he pulls away from the phone for a second. Then he’s back at it again. He gotta tell Cas. There’s no one left he can talk about Sam.

He gotta tell someone because if something happens to Dean, who would look after Sam?

“You gotta help, okay Cas? I don’t know if I’d live long enough for it, but whether it’s me or Sam, I rather someone looking after him… just for my peace of mind, kay? Sorry for putting this on you, man… But Cas… if Sam goes first, I think I’ll die, y’know? I already lost mom… lost Jack… I lost you along the way and now Sam’s…” Dean blinks back tears, hating and hating himself for being vulnerable to the creature who has turn his back on him. “He’s… They’re all leaving… everyone’s just leavin…”

_Fuck._

He grips the phone and tosses it aside, finally letting the tears well up and consume him. His lungs burn, his cheeks wet and his lips won’t stop quivering. But he lets it, cause no one’s there except him. A place where he will always end up in anyway, somewhere far and lonely.

Somewhere gone.

A minute more and Dean’s wiping his eyes, tired and exhausted. He’s gotta get a move on before Sam starts callin but before he can take another move, he freezes.

There is a pair of black shoes before him. Dean reacts, getting hit by that menacing aura in the air he couldn’t pinpoint, but hunter’s instincts told him it’s more than danger. He looks up to find red pair of eyes on him— a demon?

He gets to his feet but before he can fully straighten himself, a strong hand snaked around his throat and lifted from the ground. His backside hits the impala’s door as he struggles to breathe. Dammit—this one’s quick as lightning. Dean struggles, both hands clutching on the firm arm. Who the hell is this?

He starts in pain but he forcefully opened his eyes at the tall creature gazes at him gravely like he’s personally offended him. It’s obviously a very powerful creature, almost Sam’s height with lean, muscled body under all the garbed black suit. He carries himself with such elegance and grace with that unbelievable attractive face. His sharp jaws and tall nose certainly are worth noticing but his dark eyes are what silences Dean. Red pupils with gold rims. And that’s when Dean recognizes and understood.

This is a _god_ no doubt about it. A pagan god.

The nameless god surveys Dean haughtily, red eyes not leaving the greens. After a moment, his unpleased lips open, voice too deep like it’s from the ground.

_“Sinner of all. Bow before me.”_

Dean grits his teeth trying to calculate a way to escape—by whipping his dagger out of nowhere and burying it on the creature’s muscle he could reach. It doesn’t seem to faze him.

The red eyes glow and Dean knows he’s asking for it but he gets pulled down inches from the god’s face, their noses almost touching. Damn god doesn’t look pleased nor is he pissed. He looks darn curious like he’s inspecting a weird object with such focus. The hunter grits his teeth because the proximity is exactly what he needs. He just needs to be able to lift his arm and—

Like the thought is too obviously read, Dean sees the god look down the dagger in his hand. The god blinks and the dagger melts in Dean’s hand—Dean screaming at the hot metal scorching his hand and he lets go. A loud thump on the floor tells him his weapon Tears at the corner of his eyes, Dean meets the red eyes again, sweat sliding the side of his face.

Okay. This is really bad. It goes worse when the unknown god grabs his left collar and the rest of his shirt—with ripping sound that felt like his own flesh is being torn—the god shreds the right corner of his jacket in one swift pull, tearing away down to his shoulders while Dean yells. The fabric breaks lose, leaving his bare skin exposed under scrutiny.

Dean’s chest is heaving. The material of his clothes gotten pulled from his right already tight on his neck’s skin. But he doesn’t have time to worry about it when he looks down and meets the red eyes again, curiosity aflame in those pupils as they rave down Dean’s front. Without a word nor any movements, the hunter feels cold wind rush to his entire body as a palm lands on his left chest. But the god is no longer looking at him, rather on his shoulder. Dean can see the red glowing eyes fixate themselves on the print everlasting on his skin—_on Castiel’s hand print. _

The god slides his hand against the hunter’s skin and touches the print. Dean grits his teeth as heat blazes on his shoulder. What the hell— as quick as it happened, it also quickly disappears. Dean has enough strength to raise his eyes to the god who is staring at the hand print like it offended him too.

_“Blasphemy.” _He mutters, lips thinning.

Then his eyes fall down on Dean’s bare chest. The god reaches to his chest that sends his skin flaming again. Dean locks eyes with the god looking livid. The god is tracing his tattoo seemingly fascinated. Dean crunches his teeth.

“_Fuck off!”_

_“You are a container of many sins.”_ There’s a flicker in the god’s eyes that doesn’t escape the hunter. _“Your soul reeks of abhorrence and sin punishable by my hands. Such a sinful creature.”_

_“Fuck you!” _ Dean growls but he’s screaming again because the god just prickled his chest—right above his anti-possession tattoo using a single finger. And the look in the god’s eyes— it’s more than just lust, there’s something much more and Dean knows enough signal to know this is really bad bad news. Dean shake his head with another curse at the tip of his tongue when he feels another sharp cut through his skin again. It takes forever, it feels like he’s been hanging on the air, suspended and tortured—just like his time in hell, receiving his punishment.

And just like that, Dean falls on the ground, legs bent, knees in pain, but he’s on his feet the next beat. He instinctively prepares to defend himself, not sure of the what’s and whys and who’s—but one thing is certain when he looks around, alert and with red chest burning.

There’s nothing and no one.

This time he is truly alone. Dean looks down his torn shirt to his sweltering skin. He groans when he touched it, but looking closely, there’s nothing different with his chest or his anti-possession tattoo. Yet why does it feel like something’s slicing across it.

_Son of a—?_


	3. Don’t shoot the Messenger of Bad News

_ ** ** _

_ **Legatus non caeditur neque violatur** _

* * *

Dean scowls in front of his laptop inside the Bunker holding an icepack on his swollen left eyebrow. He can still taste blood in his mouth and feel the strain in his throbbing muscles and joints hours after his sloppy accident he excused as ‘slippery road’.

Sam had given him a suspicious look when he lied through his teeth, giving him the silent treatment while he attended to his wounds because Dean refused to go to the hospital to which Sam didn’t bother insisting. Hospitals are for amateurs, Dean said with a groan when Sam smacked healing plaster on his sore back. But Dean’s had worse than bruises, cuts and sprained ankle to last a lifetime to even make a big deal out of it. Besides, the most damaged, most broken part of him isn’t treatable so best let the wound fester, hoping he’d get over it soon.

Get over the fact that Cas no longer wishes to be around him. That the angel has finally decided to walk away. The length of silence in the room is palpable Dean is surprised Sam didn’t say anything about it afterwards. Which brought them here in the middle of the library with Sam eyeing his brother quietly while Dean does his best to ignore him and focus on searching for anything supernatural. Anything that would distract him from Castiel’s betrayal.

Betrayal? Cas betrayed heaven for him once. If a time came that he did the same to Dean, then let it be known it’s never that angel’s fault. The thought has Dean gearing his mind back on the hunt with a deeper scowl. He knew things were to end this way so why did he even raise his hopes up?

_Why?_

Cause it’s Cas, answers his inner mind simply.

Dean bangs his fingers the keyboard and his palms on his eyes.

_He can’t do this…_

Sam clears his throat across him and Dean is reminded of his brother’s watchful eyes. He doesn’t look up. He’s been nagged enough that morning and though Dean loves his brother’s punk ass, he still preferred if Sam leaves him alone. He can feel Sam’s eyes boring on him for a minute until Dean could take it no longer. Still with the scowl on his face, Dean looks up, meeting Sam’s.

_“What?” _he asks flatly.

Sam hesitates.

“What’s going on, Dean? You’ve been so out of it since you returned.”

“I’m out of it.” Dean grumbles and glares on the double space on the search bar. He knows Sam’s waiting for more elaboration so he indulges him with another glance up, “I fucked up my car, okay? Just be happy I didn’t bulldoze a state government property and sue every road agents I can find on the phone book—”

Sam rolls his eyes. “For Christ sake, Dean— you really think I believed that crap about the slippery road? It hasn’t even rained in anywhere in the states for the last five days.”

“Oh, so you’re Mr.TWC now? Keep it up, Sammy, I might encourage you to lay low on the huntin job and get a starter role as the new man in the raincoat.”

“Yeah, I definitely think it’s a certain someone in a _coat _you wanna talk about.”

“What’s Dr. Sexy gotta do with it?”

“Dean!” Sam huffs with an impatient glare, “Stop playing dumb! You met Cas, right? Come on dude, you think I wouldn’t know better when you told me you’re goin out hunting? I know you, Dean! That look you get when it involves Cas… So, what happened? Why’d you come back here with a busted face and broken car? Don’t tell me Cas finally snapped?”

Dean looks initially affronted, but ends up biting his lips with a scowl.

“Did.” He mutters. Sam’s eyes widened as he straightens on his chair.

“What? He didn’t do this to you—?”

“Course he didn’t.” Dean snaps shortly.

“What happened? Where is he?”

“Does it look like I’m hiding him in my ass?”

Sam throws him a contemptuous bitch face eleven. “What did you guys talk about? What’dyou tell him? You didn’t make it worse, did you?”

“Why do you always assume the worse of me?”

“I didn’t mean that.” Sam’s voice turned softly into concern. “Dean, you had an accident. Your car’s in really bad shape and you haven’t peeled your skin or pull your eyes from its sockets like how you promised the world you would.”

“Ain’t too late—”

“Quit evading the topic.”

Dean’s had enough and he snaps his laptop to fully focus on his brother. With arms crossing on his chest, he burns his brother with his stare looking unimpressed.

“Sam, it’s me and Cas, you think things will run smoothly? If you haven’t been paying attention, we’ve been dancing the hula in opposite directions so why not make a generalization I was being a dick, or he’s being a dick. In any case, he wants out, okay? Quit bitchin at me.”

“Cas wants… out?”

Dean swallows hard and pulls his eyes away. He nods curtly when Sam continued looking at him in disbelief. What can he say? His Winchester blood is as its finest that even the best people are driven away. Or it’s just Dean because Sam is fine on his own.

Yep. Dean concludes, it’s just _him_ after all.

When Sam spoke, his voice is hard and accusatory.

“Dean, when I told you to make an effort to find him, I was telling you to make it up to him, not make it worst. Being divided doesn’t work well for the three of us and you know that. Not when things aren’t looking well on our favor.”

“Really, Sam? Favor?” Dean levels his eyes, “You think I went after Cas thinking of favors?”

“No.” Sam says hastily because Dean’s about to bite his head off, “I just wanted you and Cas to be okay, Dean before things gets too late—”

“Gee, Sam. I didn’t think your expectation of me was so high. You should’ve just told me to drag him back here without talking, that may have salvaged your dream. You think Cas and I are good at talking?”

“You’re the only one who understood him even with all his rusty skills.” Sam points out.

“Sure, what d’you call that? _E.T Connection?”_ Dean snorts but his mind is already playing Castiel finger quoting in the air when he’s the one asking for favor. It’s a two-way street and Dean can’t help the twinge of sorrow because he’s never thought Castiel only there to do him favors. He hopes that’s not how Cas feels too. Cas isn’t like that to him. _No._

“E.T connection is what _you _called it, dude. Profound bond is how Cas elegantly put it—”

Funny how those words unhinge Dean so much that at the last second of deciding never telling Sam the truth, he finds his mouth working— too driven by the storm of emotion suddenly set on fire by the thought of the angel who broke heaven and hell for him—only to end up leaving him because he’s finally seen Dean for what he’s worth—

_Nothing._

“_Profound bond my ass_—he’s also the one that said straight to my face he didn’t want to work with me, Sam. Not anymore!” Dean cuts in hotly, so unexpected that even he is surprised when all the words have poured out of his mouth. Sam just stares at him as the hunter slams his knuckles on the table, “Cas told me that we’re done. He’s done, Sam. He made a choice not to come back– that’s the only thing you need to understand. Now stop cracking your eggnogs and put energy on hunting some Jason Voorhees than some lost angel with broken wings!”

Silence meets his words. Sam looks about to fry him.

_Fuck._

Dean wants nothing but to cut his tongue. _Fuck!_

“That angel with broken wings you’re referring to is our best friend.” Sam snaps with clenched jaw, “The only friend who’s been saving us—_he saves us._ Just like how Jack has saved us. How many times do I have to tell you Cas needs us too?”

“He doesn’t.” Dean knows that for a fact and because Dean can’t be greedy with things he can’t have, he had to make himself believe it. “He doesn’t need burdens on his shoulders, Sam.”

“Did Cas tell you this?” his brother asks skeptically.

“Didn’t need to.”

“Dean, you— you’re not giving up on Cas, are you?”

“It’s not giving up.” Dean looks Sam in the eyes seriously. “It’s letting go.”

There’s a short silence then—

_“You’re an idiot.”_

Dean winces at Sam’s irritated voice. “The hell did you say—?”

“Idiot.” Sam repeats more firmly and Dean staggers even though he’s just sitting down. “You say that but you’re just going to mope around, waiting for Cas to change his mind because you know you can’t live without him, Dean!”

“Money on the table, Sam! What in _he-don’t-want-anything-to-do-with-me—_didn’t you get? You’re supposed to be the nerdy one! Doesn’t matter what I want— Cas says he’s done!”

“So you’re just going to let him go?”

“Wanna bet how it’ll turn out me cuffing the angel against his will—?”

“You don’t have to force Cas—Cas will stay, Dean if only you asked!”

“You really think I didn’t try!?”

_“You didn’t try hard enough, cause you know why? You’re afraid, Dean! Afraid Cas won’t choose you! He already did! _You’re supposed to be Cas’ number one, what’re you doing screwing things up?”

“Screwing— _jesus.”_ Dean glares. “Why are you nagging me like it’s me who broken up the dude’s heart? He said quits, I said okay—”

“You’re not okay, Dean. _You crashed your car!”_

“Okay—you know what? Stop.” Dean bristles, veins pounding on the side of his head. He’s never had a screaming contest with Sam for the longest of time because he thought they’re both well-functioning adults now. That doesn’t seem to be the case as the brothers glare at each other.

“Stop playing dumb and owe it up, Dean. You… don’t want to give up on Cas.”

Sam slams his laptop shut, stands up and walks out of the library without another word, leaving Dean pressing his eyes tight like he’s gotten five times older. He didn’t expect his brother’s outburst when Dean should’ve been the one making a fuss about him and his injury. But apparently, Sam’s too preoccupied about him and Castiel. Worried sick about what’s happening to his brother and his best friend.

Dean crosses his arms on his chest like a shield to detain the fiery emotions his brother just set on fire. Don’t want to give up on Cas… huh? Like Dean’s even thought—_likes to think of that. _Sam doesn’t know how much pain… how much Dean is destroying himself thinking of Cas leaving him… but it’s happened and there’s nothing he can do about it.

Cas’ choice.

Dean also knows that Cas is better off without him. Far unhurt because he also knows after many years with Cas, knowing each other deeply with souls almost one with that profound bond—how he’s also the only one capable of hurting Castiel more than anyone_._ That Cas doesn’t simply care about him and this in the end will destroy the angel.

Because anyone who ever loved Dean Winchester _suffers and dies._

He’d rather see Cas go alive and well, than see him die again.

He’s glad Cas chose leaving him on his own though, because Dean never had the heart to send him away. Better Cas break his heart than the other way around because Dean can handle it. Dean’s used to it.

***

Hours next and we find the hunter staring quietly onto the edge of the table with fingers digging on the meat of his skin. Cans of beer clutter his area of the table with an empty plate of his lunch but it isn’t what’s making Dean stare into nothingness. At first, he thinks he’s getting sleepy and for a moment, he makes a choice to throw himself on the couch or simply go back to his room. Before he could decide however, something painful shoots up from his chest—like something sharp slowly carving on his skin— making him gasp and clutch his left side as he stands up in surprise. He winces because he’s forgotten his injure leg but then—

_What the fuck…?_

He quickly unbuttons his shirt and pulls on to check the area only to see a fairly undamaged skin where his anti-possession tattoo is found. Dean rubs it with his thumb where he remembers the monster—_because it’s just that—monster— _clawed on his skin. For a second he thought he’d find a scar there, but there’s nothing. Dean hasn’t exactly forgotten about the pagan god, though he wished it’s all just a dream. Looking at his open laptop, the browse history is all about pagans connected with an arrow stuff and how his research went?

Unless another Apollo wants him dead…and Artemis? Different gal. He can’t exactly hunt a god looking like a human meatsuit, right?

Dean blinks hard when he realizes he is sweating profusely. He isn’t aware how much time has passed or if all of it was just part of a dream. He lets out a shuddering breath and raise his eyes back on the screen for any distraction.

He stares at the table for a moment, before he starts moving to the kitchen. Shaking the discomfort left by the memory he wanted nothing more than to bury. He winces again at his sudden pace, then balances with a limp. Each step is hell, his busted right leg reminded him fully of his car accident. He’s got full feelings about his car, Dean’s sure. But for now, he can suck it all up because he’s not can’t process everything at once. There’s a time to beat himself up about his beloved baby… a time to mourn things he’s lost… a time where everything will just crash down.

For now, he wants this fucked-up leg to carry him down the kitchen again. He manages to enter the kitchen without a slip, grunting once when force is necessary to open the fridge. Silence meets his ears when the clanking of the bottles on the fridge door stops.

Funny what used to be a full house packed with five people now so empty with only two. Dean takes a bottle, uncorks it then takes it down in one swig. He tastes the bitterness of the drink, feels the hot trickle of liquid down his throat.

He drinks again because it doesn’t really register.

It isn’t gratifying.

He is missing something.

_Someone._

Dean rounds on the sink and leans on the counter, his brows furrowed. He lets his arm move and dip his head for another drink. He drinks again, this time letting the tip of the bottle stay on his lips slowly. He pauses with the burning sensation in his throat. He can hear his own gulp in the silence. Can hear his own heartbeat against his chest. There’s nothing there except dead silence.

A sense of loneliness. Dean grips the bottle tight.

He wants to return to his laptop. Wants to bury his head in research because standing there with nothing makes him _think_ and it’s the last thing he wants right now. Not when he doesn’t want to remember things he’s missing.

They said you wouldn’t miss something you didn’t have to begin with.

He didn’t know he had them from the start. They just happened to drop from the sky and squeeze in his life. Those people who made this place feel like home for him and his brother. Those people now gone because he couldn’t protect them and now even Sam’s…

Dean sniffs but ignores the tears welling in his eyes when he takes another swig.

How many people had he lost? How many goodbyes? And how many of them actually lived a better life because Dean let them?

Will Cas have a better life too? Dean didn’t think so. Knowing Castiel, that idiot will be roping himself on more trouble than he’s worth. That dork who always sneaks behind him, tilting his head in his adorable fashion, squinting his eyes in genuine curiosity and asking questions and corrections about phrases and expressions Dean’s willing to teach. The dork who’s always hanging around him watching his favorite movies and listening to his favorite songs without complain. He just takes in everything.

Indulging him. Thinking about it, did he enjoy those moments as much as Dean did?

Dean quirks his lip, his throat tightening.

Who’d have thought it’s those little moments he’d missed the most?

And why is he missing it now?

Cause he knows deep in his heart it’s final. Like the many people he’s cut out from his life either to protect them or their own choice and he let them, because it’s for the best. Because he knows he can never be enough for them. Knows at the end of the road there’s only him, his tombstone and nothing more. Everyone leaves him in the end, because in the end it’s each one’s battle to the grave. But… Dean didn’t want to be alone. Even if he was fated to, that’s one thing he’s wishing never to happen.

Why else would he bring Sam back in the business? The weak him decided so, that’s why. Why else would he be begging his angel to return? Because he’s a selfish bastard who only looks after himself. And now the angel has seen that side of him. How Dean isn’t really worthy of his praises. How Dean’s soul isn’t really as bright as he deemed it to be. How Dean—as that brute pagan said—_is filled of overwhelming sins—_

The bottle feels heavy so he doesn’t fight when his arm swings down his sides. He stares at the floor. He hates the stillness of his surroundings. Hates how much he hates himself and the stinging of his eyes. He’s glad Sam probably hates him right now too. He can sulk as much as he can. Can mope as much as he needs to. And then back to regular hunting and let days and weeks pass. Let years pass and let the pain lessen. Maybe he’ll forget everything.

Or not and he lives his days like this, empty and broken from the beginning to the end. At least his mom didn’t live long enough to see him fail, nor his father take back being proud of him. Dean thinks his father spoke too soon. Dean isn’t feeling proud at the moment, not when he’s failed his father’s one and only order he’s been living off since day one of his independence—

_Keep Sam safe._

Sam with that bullet wound isn’t _safe_. He also let his best friend—the only other one Dean trusted with his whole life—suffer in silence until he walks out of his life. Dean failed many people in his life but right now there’s nothing he hates more than how he’s failed himself again. That’s something he can never shake. Just him being him.

_A fucking failure._

A woeful sound escaped his trembling lips. Geez, not this again…

Dean palms his red cheeks and wipes away the hot tears running down to his chin. He thinks he hears footsteps from the hallway. Before Dean can rub his eyes with the back of his hand, someone comes in plain sight.

Dean freezes, green eyes wide as he stares at the kitchen entrance where a blue-eyed pretty dude with messy hair and dirty trench coat stares back at him looking disheveled like he just fell down from the sky. Dean watches in slow motion as his chapped lips forming a name—

_“Dean!”_

Its effect is more than anything Dean expected. A bell rings in his ears. A collective buzz crawls under his skin, creeping to his very stomach shaking his butterflies to the core. This is wrong… how dare someone open heaven for him when he’s just about to be swallowed down the pit?

Then again, it’s deja vu.

The angel moves and still Dean is frozen.

Maybe he’s seeing things, but before he could take in that striking appearance of ever sex hair that doesn’t give fuck about shape and length, pretty face and just blue eyes is suddenly eating up his space Dean forgets to breathe. He falls back at the edge of the sink nervously—fucking nervously because this is beyond his wildest dreams. Castiel. Castiel is here.

Dean presses back as the angel strides to him ready to pounce, stopping only to leave a decent amount of space while he hovers before the hunter. His arms, Dean notices, makes several attempt to reach for him but stops himself in midair. Instead, the angel satisfies himself with cornering him so he couldn’t escape.

Like Dean wants to be anywhere else right now when he doesn’t.

“Dean!” Cas says his name in deep, rough voice like his life depended on it.

The hunter blinks in amazement as two pairs of blue eyes searches his face in obvious apprehension. “Dean— what happened? Are you okay?”

“C-Cas?” Dean chokes. “How—Wh— what are you doing here?”

“I came as soon as Sam called—_no—I was already on my way after your phone call—”_ Castiel is searching down Dean’s body like there’s an extra head or arm or leg there while Dean shakes his head, dumbstruck.

Phone call? He phoned Cas? He racks his brain but after the accident he can’t quite remember everything. His confusion must’ve shown clearly because Castiel hesitates on the spot looking at him warily, his angelic eyes flashing as if he’s in the middle of a battle field. He looks Dean up and down with critical eyes, those blue like x-ray visions raking on Dean’s very soul.

“Dean…” he says like he’s being robbed of breath but Dean knows for a fact angels don’t breath. Cas just got the habit out of him. Cas had been looking up at Dean as his human example, though the angel once confessed he will never do what Sam refers to as ‘Dean-Gobbling’ because it is unearthly even by standards and Cas is everything but.

“Dean!” Castiel says again because the hunter isn’t responding. “Are you even listening!?” his voice turns into panic Dean has never heard before. “Dean?”

“What?” Dean croaks weakly. Cas is too damn near but he wouldn’t push him away. He doesn’t want to. If any of his body part even tries, Dean is afraid he might break em’.

Castiel flickers his eyes on Dean’s shoulder, then his body visibly stiffens, a hand out to reach—

“Dean—your _shoulder_—”

Dean pulls back, much to his own surprise. Castiel gives him a ridiculously worried stare. How can—is this— can angels be easily duplicated or is this Jimmy’s doppelganger? Dean’s head continues to swirl and get suffocated by how those intense blue eyes just blares at him like some fucking sunlight.

“I’m fine, Cas.” Dean breathes, wanting to ease a hand on the angel’s shoulder to push him a little for some space. Then stops himself midway. He licks his lips and quickly looks down his feet, the only space left between them but he’s glad it’s there. He’s afraid what he might do to the angel if they have any contact at all.

“You don’t look fine.” Castiel says sounding mad.

“Why do you care?” Dean shoots a glare, finding the angel with equal glare. “I thought we’re done? What are you doing here—no—what are_ you doing?”_ It’s not that Dean actually wants to the rift between them to remain, but it’s still too hard for him to believe that Cas is there for him at the same time, doesn’t want to hold on that false hope too good to be true.

For a second, Cas’ eyes soften and Dean absorbs all the emotion laid beneath those sparkling ocean hues. Why does Cas have to be so… _readable?_

“I’m worried about you.”

“You don’t have to pretend to care just cause Sam called you—”

“No, Dean—”

“Forget it, Cas. Sam’s the one who needs you—go see him.”

Castiel doesn’t move. More like, he looks like he wants to pin his feet on the ground the way he’s looking at Dean like the hunter will disappear if he takes a step back. Dean wants to get away from being cornered that’s for sure. He tries to get control of his wildly beating heart, tries to dissuade the thought that Cas came for him.

_“I’m sorry.”_

The hunter pauses, wide eyes on the strange angel who—what?

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I didn’t mean those words, please.” Cas says with a deep sigh, inching a step closer and watching Dean’s reaction. “I was just… I thought you didn’t need me. You made me think you don’t— I – Dean—but after that phone call it’s— just let me hold you.” Cas looks helplessly up at him and then down at the last step between them like it’s a wall he wants nothing but to destroy. Dean becomes aware of Castiel’s stress when he shifts forward, only to take a step back before looking him in the eyes in desperation.

Dean spins back at the angel’s face. He thinks his mouth is open but can’t register why it matters because it doesn’t. Cas—but they’ve been fighting! Dean’s done Cas a number and Cas already said he’s done—so what— and does he even have the fucking right to—?

Dean’s lost this one.

“Let you do uhhh—excuse me?”

“Let me near, Dean. _Please.”_

It’s Dean’s turn to look apprehensive. Cas looks really devastated. Did Sam tell him Dean died or something? Sam must’ve exaggerated because right now all Dean wants to do is to inch far away from the angel. It’s wrong, he knows it. Wrong to even think it’s okay for them to be okay after everything. Still he asks.

“How near?”

Castiel steps closer. Dean’s heart thunders.

“What’s gotten into you, Cas? Hey, what’s wrong? Why’d you suddenly need permission crossing spaces? It’s not like you’re enterin my meatsuit or anything to ask for angel possession, right?”

“Is that a yes?” Cas looks up sharply, tone impatient.

“Yes?” Dean nods uncertainly before Cas hisses, seemingly more to himself, his tense shoulder showing his frustration. With an angry huff, he crosses the remaining distance and throws his arms around the hunter’s shoulder, knocking out the wind out of the man’s lungs.

Dean doesn’t know what’s happening. Cas must be trying to choke him, finally ran out of grace. But... is this a dream where he’ll wake up to the nightmare he’s left behind? If this is a djinn or some trickster’s idea of messing with his head, it’s working because the next thing Dean knows, he’s wrapping his arms around Cas’ body, pulling him tight to him with eyes closing. That familiar warmth, welcoming and loving sifts in his body.

_It’s really Cas._

_“Dean.” _Cas’ voice shakes, making the hunter open his eyes.

“Cas…?”

“Your phone call… you… were crying…” Cas sighs, gripping him close. “I wanted to be there as soon as I heard you… Dean… you were calling for me.”

Dean chuckles, leaning his cheek in a strangely comfortable position just beside the angel’s head. He’s wanted to do this for a very long time. Didn’t think how his body has lasted without embracing him.

“Probably annoyed you again, didn’t I? Your fault you saved this ass from hell.”

Castiel cups Dean’s face with both hands like it’s something precious to be hold. Dean stops breathing, eyes still blurry.

“Did you really think I abandoned you?” he growls.

“Didn’t you?”

“No! I— I didn’t know what to do, Dean… I just knew I need to come back here for you. Then Sam called. Said you had a bad accident and you’re hurt.” Cas looks Dean all over, tilting Dean’s head for any injuries and hissing again when he notices the small cuts and gashes on the side where the hunter bumped his head badly. “Dammit, Dean! What happened?”

The angel stops and for one brief moment, Dean thought Cas remembers they weren’t supposed to be buddies right now. That just last night, they were at each other’s throat, telling each other they’re done and should have been done. There should be no time and space on earth where they share such an intimate exchange ever again.

Dean understands the sudden urge to wrap his arms on the angel but he didn’t. Instead, he just stares, letting Cas do what he needs to. Soon, Dean understands why Cas stopped because the next thing, he feels the angel’s grace envelop his cold body, healing him, filling him with protection he sorely missed. He closed his eyes, wanting nothing but to keep Cas close. He missed Cas. He missed him a lot.

He opened his eyes to meet those angelic sapphires transfix on him. Cas gently wipes on his cheeks with both thumbs looking wretched for some reason.

“Where else are you hurt? Tell me.”

But Dean isn’t listening. He just stares at Castiel and drown himself in his blue eyes once cold and indifferent, now once again filled with unadulterated love for him. It seemed important to do just now. The moment Cas touches his face, he knew they are okay. The moment he leans his face on the angel’s touch, knew there’s no reason to force his mind to forget the angel because above everything, it’s what is making him miserable.

Forget Castiel? Over Dean’s burning dead body.

“Dean…?”

Dean feels a shudder run down his spine at the sound of Cas’ voice calling him again. The thought itself that Cas is finally here with him makes him want to throw a punch on his angel friend for making him this worried. For making him miss him so much it’s unbearable. For making him long to reach him and just keep him close.

“Twelve.”

Cas blinks up, in act of grabbing Dean’s flannel’s collar to unbutton his shirt but Dean catches both his wrists with his hands, smiling because it’s weird Cas is just stripping him and here he is letting him. But Cas doesn’t seem like he gives fuck.

“Twelve.” He repeats, “That’s the number of times you’ve said my name in the span of two minutes.”

Cas blinks at him again, his lips parting open in understanding.

Dean fights the urge to just take those ornately shaped pink lips because he knows this is all happening in the heat of the moment. Habits die hard and Cas… it’s Cas’ job to worry about the Winchesters. It’s only natural that he reacts that way. Hating himself for denying, he sadly lets go of Cas’ wrists and braces his shoulders to squeeze space.

“Dean, your—"

“I’m fine, Cas. You worried for nothing.”

Castiel only looks at him, studying his expression as closely as possible. Dean nods and pats the angel on the shoulder before shifting his feet and moving around him towards the table. He feels Cas follow, building up incredible tension that always seizes Dean and if Sam is to arrive, he’s sure it’s going to fizz out to the younger hunter as well.

He sits down, looks up to the angel who stands opposite him with deep concern. Castiel, for all Dean can remember him, has always worried about Dean and had prioritized Dean all his life here on earth. How Dean manages even to screw the last good thing that ever happened to him, he accounts that to the fact that Cas comes to him never asking of anything. He just keeps giving.

But when Cas stops and realizes that, it’s Dean who lost it. Castiel deserves more than just a pat on the shoulder. Castiel deserves more than just the world because he is the world to Dean.

The hunter returns his stare equally. Piercing silence falls where he nods in acknowledgement. But nothing happens. Cas hovers there, long arms flinging on his sides like he doesn't quite know what to do with them. Dean blinks unimpressed but Cas doesn’t look away.

"You just gonna stand there looking pretty?" the hunter doesn’t bat an eyelid, knowing in all sense it’s the truth and Cas discomfort is starting to make him uncomfortable. Dean watches Cas get shift from one foot to another till he nods and takes on the opposite chair, his beautiful face finally into the view.

“Sam’s told me about the accident four hours ago.” Cas begins after a deep sigh like it helps. Maybe it did. “And I came back as fast as I could.”

“Glad to know you’re on your answering mode now. What happened?” Dean wonders if he sounds like he’s always snapping, because he visibly saw Castiel flinch. “Did uh… did Sam got the correct dial tone?”

Cas shakes his head, serious. “There’s no dial tone.”

Dean nods, smile faltering painfully. He reminds himself it’s Cas’ nature to care. That there’s nothing beneath it except the angel… well, being an angel.

"I came back to make sure you’re okay…” Cas whispers, frowning as he gives Dean a good look. He obviously sees the damage and the way he bites his lips looks as if he doesn’t know if he wants to stay or go. Dean frowns and clears his throat.

“This isn’t because of you, alright? Been drivin since I was ten. I get clumsy sometimes.”

Cas shakes his head.

“Is this right after we spoke last night?” there’s a hint of guilt in his tone that has Dean listening in. The hunter crosses his arms in front of his chest, leaning on the table with crinkled nose.

“You’re not the one driving, kay? It’was all on me.”

Cas doesn’t look convince. “Dean…”

“Look, Cas—this isn’t your fault. And honestly? I don’t remember much of it. Just the road goin’ so wide, next thing you know there’s a bunny on the road—”

Something in Cas’ eyes made Dean stop. The angel gives him a piercing look like he knows the hunter is hiding something.

“What?” Dean raises eyebrows. “It was dark, okay? Wasn’t sure what I saw. And why do you care? Comin back here just to check on me, give me a break. You don’t get to take care of me, Cas. You’re not my babysitter.”

“That’s because I am not and never had been.” Castiel rolls his eyes.

“Don’t be like that? Might end up taking care of Sammy’s grandchildren the way you are now all angel and walking the earth.” Dean smirks, takes a swig on his drink.

Castiel’s eyebrows meet.

“Sam plans to have grandchildren?”

“Sure. We’re not exactly at the peak of our youth, but can still… you know…” he winks at him while the angel shakes his head.

“No, I don’t know. I don’t understand why you are steering the conversation from your obvious lie to Sam’s plan in the future with whom I shall participate only if asked by the man himself. But what about you?”

“What about me?” Dean blinks.

“How many grandchildren will you have?” Castiel tilts his head, taking Dean by surprise.

“Me?” Dean is laughing before he knows it, “Nahhhh, I’m not gonna have those.”

“Why not?”

Dean grins but refuses to answer. He just looks at Cas fondly because he can’t believe they’re here again, talking across each other with smiles just when he thought they’re done forever. He just stares at Cas and the angel lets him, also drowning himself in Dean’s attention.

Up until Castiel’s eyes suddenly scrunched his expression in pain, a hand shooting to his ears. Dean’s heart did a summersault. What did he do? He didn’t bite Cas’ lips too hard, did he?”

“Cas,— are you okay?” Dean frowns when Cas screws his face in pain.

“It’s alright…” he murmurs with brows furrowed but Dean recognizes that look.

“The angels stepping up a notch singing in your ears again?” he doesn’t hesitate to cover Cas’ tight fist on the table with his hand, knowing well Cas doesn’t mind. He doesn’t even question their interaction right now. Cas?”

“No, it’s um…” Cas shoulders twitch and he’s gulping hard. “There’s just something…”

Dean doesn’t stop himself this time. He takes Cas chin to steady him since the angel is curling on himself in pain. A suspicious look dawns on Dean, his earlier feeling of triumph disappearing.

“Cas?”

It all stops as Cas’ shoulder slumps. Dean peers at him in concern when the angel gives him an unreadable expression.

“I have to go, Dean.”

“Like hell you are.” Dean tightens his grip. Cas blinks, and then leans in to catch his lips once more, biting down his lower lip and sucking—_how has Cas learned that—!?_

Dean blinks when Cas’ stubble jaw disappears from touching his own. He realizes Cas has slipped away from his arms and is already marching to the entry way with Dean gaping at him.

“What—you’re friggin Cinderella now without the glass shoes? Where are you going?” he demands.

Cas whirls around him, uncertain, squinting. “I um… bathroom.”

Castiel is gone the next second though, leaving him rooted on the spot. What the feathery fuck did Cas say just now? Did Cas just make a hint for him to follow? Dean groans imagining Cas sprawled on his bed naked and for him to devour— a jerk on his nether regions told him as much as the bulge in the middle of his jeans.

_Dammit._

Okay, he’s reacting more than necessary and for a second, Dean has the wild impulse to go after Cas because he can’t let that comment pass for too long. That’s when something else registered in Dean’s mind as he looks at the entry way where he can swear the bathroom goes to the right.

Castiel took a left turn. _Fuck._

Dean strides into the library but Cas is nowhere in sight. The hunter takes a moment to decide where to go, why Cas would suddenly disappear and why he’s acting strange and when Cas is acting strange it’s a warning to Dean that something bad is about to collapse on him again.

Annoyed that Cas still hides and lies in the most obvious manner, Dean goes for the war room. In the next beat he’s climbing the metal staircase. They haven’t even patched up some recent dispute properly and here goes Cas once again, disappearing when it seemed like it mattered. Dean’s mind wanders to the Enochian cuffs and maybe, just maybe he’ll really use it to make him spit out the truth. The impala is out there and if Cas’ crappy car is still out there with him, Dean thinks he might just do it.

Cas’ familiar voice floated in the air just as Dean reached the top steps. He makes a short stop, eyes on the metal door. He sees it standing a jar and sucked some air. So, Cas did go out. His immediate thought is to yank it open and confront Cas but another unfamiliar voice spoke. Dean starts—who the hell is he speaking to? But the hunter stays, stepping close enough using his nimble skills acquired through years of hunting. He can hear Castiel speaking this time and he sounds cross.

“You should go back to heaven. There’s nothing I can do for you. I can’t even save one boy.”

A lump catch on Dean’s throat.

_“… not without you.”_ Female. Young.

“I thank you for your offer, but I will not go. I have something here I wish to protect.”

_“But we need you up thee as well, Castiel. The world needs you.”_

Silence. Dean waits as he processes the little information he can gather. So there’s an angel in a she-vessel out there with Cas talking about calling him back to heaven because he’s a commander. Many times, Dean’s forgotten Cas’ status in heaven, but in his defense—_Cas is his buddy-baby-in-a-trench-coat _no matter what other angel say. So something big really is going to happen. Is happening. Well, if it’s not bigger than Chuck splashing water on the sun, Dean’s not gonna panic.

“I wish I could help, but I can’t.” Cas sounds weary again, like he believes it.

_“You can, Castiel. This is non-negotiable. Please, we do not want to fight. We have heard of your reputation in heaven.”_

“And… it still doesn’t change your approach?” Cas is blunt. Dean’s heard of those epithets and he’ll be lying if he isn’t quite impressed of Cas being so notorious. When he’s really just a cat whisperer.

_“This is how desperate we’ve become. Do you still turn your back?”_

That’s a male’s voice. Dean tries to see how many angels there are but his angle isn’t quite right. He wants to make sure how many he’s got to gank if needed, and then ask Cas to do the warding again then really handcuff him inside knowing that angels are hunting him. But why?

“Okay.” Cas submits unexpectedly.

Dean’s out of the Bunker door in less than a second, gun on hand and points, blades in his eyes as he catches three angels surrounding Cas. Two of which have already locked their hands on each of Cas’ arms while the former Commander not even struggling to be free.

“Hey!” Dean barks and all the angels turn in his direction. “_Let him go or I swear!”_

The ink-black sky doesn’t present any stars, it’s like the earth has been swallowed from the outside. The only source of light there is the LED light Dean installed just above the door. Not practical so it’s usually off when everyone’s inside the Bunker. Dean steps forward in the looming darkness, eyeing Castiel and the three angels in perfect suits who watch him without any mounting recognition.

“I got angel-killing bullets I don’t mind wastin’ so let him go!”

Cas pulls away from the other angels but he doesn’t move towards Dean either.

“Dean, it’s alright.” Cas says assuring, “They’re angels from heaven. They only came to ask for help.”

“Ask help, my ass.” Dean growls, walking steadily to Cas with eyes alert to any movements. He reaches on the lapel of Cas’ black suit, finds relief to get a solid touch and pulls him on his side, walking backwards, eyes intense. The angels all watch like they’ve all been shown something horrific and Dean keeps eyes on them too. Then glares at Cas for all that its worth. Cas doesn’t look appeased.

“In my dictionary asking for help doesn’t involve ganging up on an angel with an entire army sitting by waiting for the pin to drop.”

Dean look beyond the three angels in front of him, to the eight more suited up dicks standing by the road watching their movements with intent, observing eyes. Cas watches them too.

“Dean, in your dictionary, asking for help is cuffing someone and throwing them in the trunk of the impala.” Cas retorts. Dean stares, then shrugs lightly in admission.

“I’m good at that by myself— but I don’t bring the entire garrison just to take on one dude.”

“That must say something about you.” Cas says dryly.

“And an army about you?” Dean arches an eyebrow. Cas only squints at him.

_“Castiel.”_ Comes another voice from one of the angels. Dean shifts his feet, closing in front of Cas, their shoulders touching side by side as both angel and hunter looked back at the angels. Then something clicks in Dean.

“I thought you said there’s like finger count of angels upstairs?”

“These are new angels.” Cas responds beside him. “Jack made them.”

Dean snaps his head so fast in Castiel’s direction. “You’re kidding?”

“He was manipulated at that time.” Cas explains. Dean turns back, blinking at the group.

“You mean new as in ‘new… like winged and all?”

“Yes.”

“What do they want from you?”

“Help.” Cas deadpans.

“And you’re just the angel hotline for 911, huh?”

“It’s complicated.”

“Stop being cryptic with me, Cas.”

“Put the gun down, Dean.”

“Hell I will.”

_“You are Dean Winchester.”_

Dean turns.

The angel in the younger female’s vessel calls softly, garnering both Dean and Castiel’s attention. The hunter shuffles on his feet, looking at the angel from head to foot.

“I know I am.”

“The Dean Winchester who owns Castiel.” She follows up.

Dean raises both eyebrows. He shifts from foot to foot knowing all eyes are on him. Dean knows he’s got as much reputation up there in heaven as Sam and Cas, but certainly not particularly this. Still he’s got no problem with that. Best clear things anyway.

“Yeah? If you know that, then you know I don’t respond well to people taking my stuff?”

There’s a break in the group of angels who all look at each other. Dean inches to Cas.

“Think they’re gossiping about us, dude.”

“You gave them that impression. They’re originally humans, it takes a while to rub off.”

“Baby angels, really? Worse than you?” Dean doesn’t know why he’s enjoying Cas’ glare. Maybe he’s missed that too.

“To be fair, I’m the one who claimed you first.” Cas tells him.

Dean shoots him a look. Cas glances at him sideways, daring him to counter.

“Castiel.” Insists the female angel. “Please come with us. We don’t have time. If you don’t come with us…” she stops and all the angels’ blades flash down their sleeves. That’s why Dean never lowers the gun. You can never predict what the emotionless bastards are always up to.

Castiel steps beside him, blue eyes thundering in silent rage.

_“Or what?”_ Cas deep voice quakes.

None of the angel broke the silence. Dean’s already thinking of drawing blood to blast them away. These baby angels haven’t had a taste of getting blast away, have they? It’s always fun to be the first, but Cas will be blast away too. He’ll shove Cas back in the Bunker if he has to be rough about it.

Amidst the intense stand-off, the ground suddenly shakes, making Dean almost lose his balance.

“Cas—?” he catches the angel’s eyes who shakes his head.

“This isn’t me, Dean.”

Dean shoots a look at the new angels who all look bewilderedly at each other, reminding him easily of confused ducklings in the mud. Dean feels Cas’ hand hook on his shoulder and pull him closer. Just when anything’s about to happen, a voice joins the fray.

“Seems like I’m not the only one who wants the _trench coat angel. _Figures. Still popular, aren’t we Cassie?”

Dean freezes and so did Cas. There’s a beat in the air where the space in front of them—empty and unblocked—gets occupied by a small framed guy in black leather jacket and tight pants. All the angels gasp, their eyes widening like they’re seeing something out of their depths, too bright and too intimidating.

“You son of a bitch—” Dean breaths out.

Cas blinks in pure disbelief. “_Gabriel?”_

“Yeah, this is my cue, boys.” winks the Trickster, points his palms at the angels and everything is filled with blinding flash of heavenly light. All the angels are gone in a blink, leaving Castiel, Dean and Gabriel in the vicinity.

That’s also when Dean sucker punches the archangel.


	4. Sent by God to Fight

_ ** ** _

_ **A deo missus ad pugnandum** _

* * *

_“You finally did it, you sons of bitches. Fucked up the world, I mean.”_

Gabriel says amused, but he’s not so pleased when he turns to Dean seconds after the initial earthquake stops. Dean who’s already swinging his way, slams a fist on the archangel’s cheek with a cracking sound with all the strength he could muster. Cas is minutely stunned as Gabriel stumbles backwards but without any bruise to show for. Dean on the other hand—

“Dean!” Cas’ protests as he pulls Dean back, concern breaking on his stoic expression as he snatches on the damaged fist while Dean simmers indignantly at Gabriel, unconcerned. Too busy squaring on Gabriel with menacing glint on his green eyes.

“I swear, Gabriel, I don’t care how you hauled your ass back here but if you’re after Cas too like all those baby angels, then you can get the hell out! Archangel or not I’ll Molotov you!_” _

_“Quit pulling!” _Cas snaps beside him. Dean is tugged backwards with strong hands and he has to look down on Castiel pressing his fist with both hands. He feels that sensation of mounting grace around his broken hand as the angel heals him again. He also feels Cas’ tight arm around him.

_“_I uh—thanks.” He mutters distractedly with the angry glare Cas is shooting him.

Gabriel doesn’t need to feel the pain, but he massages his chin anyway.

“You blowin your horn on the wrong god, DeanO—and that’s some nasty mark you got there, huh? Meeting other guy aside from Castiel here?”

Dean does not miss it. “What the hell’s that mean?”

Castiel nods. “What he said.”

But right at that moment, the earth starts another seamless shake under their feet. Dean curses under his breath but Cas holds him firmly in place. The shaking doesn’t seem to bother the two celestial beings, but there’s a worried crinkle on Cas’ forehead as the ground continues to tremor while the Archangel stares at the dark sky.

“What’s happening?” Dean grinds his teeth. He holds on Cas tightly too who got an arm around his back. Which is very nice, apart from Cas still glaring in his direction every now and then like he’s expecting Dean to just go berserk again. With a snarl, he turns to the archangel. “Is this your doing!?”

Gabriel lets a few minutes to pass by without saying anything. Then when the shaking stops, he turns,

“If you think Chuck’s the worst thing you’ve seen, you haven’t seen it all.” Gabriel says ominously. Both Dean and Cas give him faltering looks.

“Let’s get inside.” Cas says quietly.

There’s not even a flicker from the jet-black sky.

Dean pulls the metal doors with creaking sound. He finds the blaring red lights on as the automatic lock on system kicked in. Sam is standing in the middle of the war room looking confused and worried when their eyes met.

“Dean! What just happened?”

“Stranger things. You okay?” Dean nods at him. Sam blinks up, then look pass his brother’ shoulder.

“Cas!”

“Never fail to get surprise, don’t you?” drawls a fourth voice.

Sam whips behind him to find the Archangel sitting on the three-step stairs in the middle of the war room where he presently observes them. He looks both listless and something more. His eyes shine like there’s mischief right before hum and planning to add more, Trickster that he is. Dean straightens a little as he steps down the floor. Sam stands dumbfounded beside his brother, eyeing the archangel.

“Gabriel?” Sam swallows. “You’re alive?”

“Couldn’t have said anything more original?” asked the archangel testily. “Like ‘hottie, thought I wouldn’t see you again, wanna bang?’” He winked and stood up, his face growing grim at the reeling brothers. “The world’s ending and like usual as the new book had prophesized, it’s you two again. The _Winchesters._ Really, can’t the two of you find a new kinky hobby other than pissing gods off and getting yourselves branded? I mean, Sam—that shoulder wound? Really?”

Sam scowls at him.

“Maybe you care to explain first why you’re not dead.” Dean growls, crossing his arms, chin huffing up. “You died in the alternate universe, how are you back?”

“Dean, Dean, Dean. If you can get back alive after meeting a deadly pagan god, tell me something we can’t twist round here?”

Dean feels Sam and Cas’ eyes fall upon him.

“What did you say?” Sam shoots at Gabriel.

“Dean?” frowns at the hunter.

“Stop turnin’ the screw around me—_Michael killed you!” _Dean grinds his teeth.

Gabriel rolls his eyes. “You think Michael can really kill me? You joking, right? Both my dick brothers can’t even have a proper erection, I sure am better than them.” he smirks and Dean can’ decipher if the trickster is joking or being serious.

“Dean, what’s this about a pagan god?” Castiel is on Dean’s space in a heartbeat. But before Dean can protest, the ground shakes again with a low rumbling sound to accompany it. Dean grabs Cas while Sam warily looks up the ceiling, a hand clutching on the edge of the table. The shaking stopped for a moment. Then came another shake, much bigger and destructive this time, enough to send books falling on the floor. Dean can only steady on his feet because Castiel holds his shoulder in a vicelike grip on his waist. The angel isn’t daunted by the shake at all, standing steadily like his feet have magnets firmly planted on the ground.

Gabriel is the same.

“Damnit, what’s happening?” Dean asks Castiel again, much aware how their faces are too close.

Cas shakes his head in uncertainty when he suddenly hisses in pain. He shuts his eyes close, expression contorted in pain as he tries to bury his head on Dean’s shoulders. His hands around Dean only tightens and not letting go.

“Shit—Cas? _Cas_!” Dean takes the angel on his arms, wrapping one hand around him tight.

“Cas!” Sam calls. Gabriel watches Castiel with indifference.

_“Angel radio,”_ Cas gasps, Dean can only wait with a firm hold on the angel’s shoulder. He pops his blue eyes open, meeting Dean’s and gritting his teeth. Then Cas stops dead like he’s listening intently, eyes wide and fearful. Dean leans down, almost in breathing distance and for a moment it seems Castiel has his attention. It soon disappears when the angel returns to listening and that’s when Cas’ blue eyes widen with a glimmer of distress in his eyes.

“Cas?” Dean forcefully has the angel look back at him again. “Cas what’s happening—?”

“This—this is terrible.” Cas shoots up, almost colliding with Dean’s chest. Cas looks so upset and winded and Dean doesn’t let go, almost afraid Castiel will fly away only to remember Cas has no wings.

“Cas, what is it?” Sam hovers around them.

“Cas, you okay, buddy?”

“I’m fine—but the world—” Cas breathe out, pulling himself together and standing in his own two legs. Dean and Sam almost have the same reaction upon hearing the first warning when the third shake of the ground kicked in again. Dean clutches on Cas’ arm quick, other hand grabbing Sam out of instinct.

“What the hell’s going on—_Cas!? Dammit—!”_

A dreadful feeling begins to erupt from Dean’s chest that goes up and gets stuck right about his throat. If angels are making a fuss of this, if the ground starts shaking then it’s as Castiel has said.

_Terrible._

Another shake, that spikes all of Dean’s hunter instincts to kill whatever’s doing it. Then everything stays stills. Sam huffs and looks at Dean, Dean doing the same. Both then turned to the angels to find Castiel staring at Gabriel intently. Dean inches a little towards him, feeling the danger lying just beyond what he can sense.

_“Gabriel.” _

There’s a hint of warning in Cas’ very deep voice. Gabriel raises his face.

“It’s true then? What they say…this from Heaven— this—the _end of the universe_?”

Both Sam and Dean snap in attention at the blinking angel.

“What—?” Sam gapes.

“End of universe? _It’s happening? Now?_” Dean growls in hostility. He snaps at Gabriel “What the hell did you do this time?”

“Uh, yeah? Put all the blame on me, fellas?” Gabriel fakes indignance as Cas and Dean share the same livid expression. “You’re the madmen who angered pops and you’re just gonna dump it all on me?”

“Chuck?” Dean blares, “Chuck did this?”

“He started it, at least.”

“What?” Sam snaps as another shake of the ground with resounding grumble from the ground has the Bunker blaring red. Sam holds on the wall, Cas grabs Dean’s arm to steady him again while the archangel in front of them looks up the ceiling as if seeing something others don’t.

“The sun’s been taken out.” Cas mutters, “And this intensive attack… don’t tell me…?” he exchanges glare with the Trickster who nods solemnly.

“Yep, finally raised up their lazy arms like we fear they would.” Gabriel pipes up, finally looking Dean in the eyes, “Lights out and the next thing— _ Apocalypse.”_

“Again?” Dean give Gabriel a stunned look.

“No!” Sam and Cas say together looking devastated.

“Yessie.” Gabriel crosses his arms. “What better warns the world ending than killing the sun? but don’t worry, it’s not like we can’t restore it, y’now.”

“What the hell’s that mean? You mean we can replace it? Like a damn bulb?” Dean looked incredulous.

“Your incorrigible nature is killing me, Dean. You don’t even realize how things are so bad right now. We need to move, I need to bring you along, if you guys can’t do it, no one can.”

“Would you just start explaining!?” Sam presses in anger when the archangel whirls to face them again now looking a little impatient.

“It’s the end of the world, Sam! And believe me I want to explain, I really do but how about I jump us first into another space and time and then we can discuss—”

Dean’s eyes widen when Gabriel raises his fingers to perform a familiar trick, but Castiel swiftly moves on to him without a word, hands gripping Gabriel’s collar. Sam tenses as the seraph slams the archangel on the pillar of the Bunker with blue eyes flashing dangerously.

Gabriel barely even bat an eyelid.

“Oh sure, let’s do this now coz we have all the time in the world.” Gabriel’s glares, both hands slipping on Cas’ shoulder blades, “And you don’t have to be so tough, Cas. Just coz the Winchesters are watching.” He winks at the Winchesters who both have stepped behind Castiel. But Castiel is in no mood whatsoever as he leans forward, face crumpled fiercely.

“_Ragnarok.” _Cas whispers. Gabriel’s lips shut close.

Dean’s head whirls but he only looks dumbly at Sam who chews his lips and turns to Cas’ side nervously. His voice filled with apprehension.

“Cas, when you said _Ragnarok…?”_

Cas’ eyes gleams, “End of the world. Doomsday. _Apocalypse. Ragnarök. _This is a term referring to the final battle of gods—the Old Gods—Pagan Gods as you call them— that will destroy the earth completely there will be nothing left of it. From frost and fire and other disasters that will befall this world from the destruction of the cosmos and breaking of the sky until the world submerges into water. Nothing will be left of it. That’s why Heaven is restless.”

Dean blinks rapidly at the angel.

_“Oh seriously— we’re going against Thor now?” _he bellows. _“Hammer flying and all?!”_

“Looks it.” Sam swallows when neither celestial being contradicted him. “Proto-gods have existed even before Chuck and his angels in this land. Come on, think about it—we saw Zeus die!”

“We watch many things die, what makes him so special?” Dean shoots at him.

“Gabriel.” Cas warns, inching closer, nose to nose.

“You sure you wanna worry about me, Cassie? I’m not even half your concern.”

Castiel continues to frown as the archangel turns to Dean.

“What’s the problem, Dean? Suddenly kinda tense cause this isn’t your typical apocalypse with pagan gods getting involved? And how about that coincidence? You got yourself your own pagan god in between?”

Dean glowers. He sees Castiel slowly turn a look at him, but he shakes his head.

“This isn’t about me.” He points, glaring at Sam too. “Quit bitchin.”

“This Ragnarok,” Sam voices out, sounding apprehensive. “Can someone explain why we have to deal with this _now?_”

“What d’you think? You snatch the lights out, all creatures of the dark runs and plays. You think the old gods are happy with pops who literally raised hell because—oh, people won’t listen to him and he’s got temper issues—”

“Get on with it!” Dean glares.

“I would if Castiel would give me room to tell a story!” Gabriel bites back. Castiel is still pressing him on the wall with undivided attention. Dean steps between the two and took Cas by the right elbow.

“Let him go, Cas.”

Cas follows albeit reluctantly, burning eyes still at the archangel. Gabriel stares from Cas to Dean with interest, catching something between them that’s not really new to many.

“Give us what you know.” Sam sighs, “Now.”

Gabriel begins.

“Okay, I’m sure Cas knows the story. These proto-gods had always had a beef with pops. He’s the one who shun them in the shadows of the globe using only his Word. Power of worship is very important to Old Gods but pops? He’s mighty on his own. So imagine him taking over the world? Not one of them appreciate pops being a dick when Christianity widespread and lesser and lesser people believed in deities and gives offering. Their powers weakened, plus the fact that most of the Old Gods practically hate and envied each other. There’s no unity there. That’s one trait humans surely can compare.”

“We’ve met some ruthless pagan gods and honestly they’re never on my favorite list. They’re all pain in the ass with all the rituals and other shenanigans.” Dean crosses his arms again. “But why Ragnarök the world now?”

“Because they can.” Gabriel shrugs. Even Castiel gives Gabriel a hard look so he backtracks, “Look, with number of followers decreasing each year, they’re slowly losing ground in this world. They usually keep to themselves because hunters are around, not to mention Heaven is also on guard against them, right, Cassie?”

“Our primary concern is to keep the world safe… and it’s not from Lucifer alone.” Castiel amended.

Gabriel nods. “But now with the angels out of commission and our own dad going AWOL—what do you think the pagan gods would do? They never cared about humans. Big G’s latest conspiracy of trying to end the world maybe a trigger too, but the final pull on the plug is taking the power of the sun. The sun’s just not for anyone’s taking, fellas. Old gods rely on that source for power on rituals, even with the moon and constellations. And I’m telling you the Sun god is not pleased. Made some of them believe it’s about time to take the shit out of his hands. Get on Ragnarök and start a new world where they can reign above everyone once and for all.”

“Oh, so like they wake up and suddenly want world domination.” Dean murmurs, palming his face with a little shake of his head, “Geezus, they can’t get more random than that.”

“Talk to Chuck.” Gabriel says acidly, “If there’s a random award, that guy will win by landslide. Anyway, if we can’t prevent it, the next thing you know a loud horn will blow as signal of the start of the battle. We’re heading straight there—with a few more signs for Old gods to destroy and then that’s it. It’s a jumpstart Ragnarök.”

Another horrifying silence fell. Dean isn’t impressed.

“So who are we ganking and how do we get sparks up the sun?”

Castiel and Sam turn to Dean at the same time like they couldn’t quite believe him. Dean returns their gazes and shrugs. “Just another monster, right? The last time I checked, we’ve killed many pagan gods before, Sam. We have weapons to kill and as long as there’s that, I don’t see it impossible. They’re just _another monster_. All it takes is finding them and killin em.”

“That’s the Dean Winchester I know.” Gabe is looking at Dean with all new respect at his stupidity, probably, “You’re up against billions of gods and you’re thinking of hunting them all. In this dark?”

“How about you then?” Dean retorts, not missing the archangel’s sarcasm. “What is it to you? You wouldn’t even be here if your neck’s not on the line so spit it out, Gabe. What’s in it for you helping this sorry earth survive?”

“Ohhh, with the burn.” Gabriel quirks his brows. “I’m here cause the old gods still think I’m Loki and get this people— the Titans believe Loki will lead them in this war—like their prophecy— which I want to do zero about! Not like I can hide forever, but I haven’t forgotten what they did to me so I’m gonna send them all back to their hell holes. I need your help. Especially you Cas.”

He nods at the angel who straightens. Dean frowns.

“Easy, DeanO. I’m not gonna kidnap your husband like those newbie anthropoid angels, alright?”

“So why him?” Dean glowers. Cas gives him an exasperated look while Gabriel grins.

“Coz I’d like a fancy bait that don’t die from blood lost—what else?”

Dean bolts from where he stood but Cas puts an easy hand on his shoulder and steps in front of Dean.

“Gabriel. You said you have a plan.”

“Don’t you worry, my plan is plausible and it’s a one-deal breaker. You are going to need me in the long run so if you don’t want to get lost, you start paying attention now.”

“Alright.” Cas nods. “Now tell me of this plan, about how to save the world?”

The gravity of the tone of his voice catches Sam and Dean’s attention now. Gabriel wiggles his eyebrows at all the grim expressions. The ground may have shaken once or twice, but they are all too engrossed to pay attention, Gabriel sees to that.

“Good. Very good. Now who’s got a death wish to go to _Ancient Rome?”_

It’s as if the whole universe has already collapsed. Silence follow this declaration. Dean thinks it’s absurd, yet no one’s laughing. Cas only raises his sharp chin, blue eyes narrowed and scrutinizing his brother. Sam looks about to faint with the way his chest is heaving rapidly up and down.

“Wait a second… _Ancient Rome?_” Sam blinks.

Dean. “Not the right time to geek out, Sammy.” Sam blinks but didn’t say a word.

“Send me in.” Castiel says in the next beat.

“Me too.” Dean quips without ado and Cas is glaring at him.

“Dean—” he warns but the hunter has already made up his mind.

“Make me.” Dean glares and Castiel glares back at him disapprovingly while Sam quietly steps behind them with all intention to go. Gabriel smirks at all of them looking satisfied.

“Winchesters, Ancient Rome and a Fallen Angel. Damn, no wonder it fell.”

“What are we going to do there?” Sam seems to be the only one calm enough to ask.

“Alright—first—_you’re not going!”_ Dean rounds at Sam.

“Then you’re not going.” Sam retorts with the same passion.

“Neither of you are going.” Cas says finally.

“Make it a fair trade—one angel partners one human. I get Gabriel.” Dean points at the archangel who winks at him.

“Ready to bite me, are you, DeanO?”

“No, you’re not going with him.” Castiel gives him another annoyed glance. Dean can’t remember not glaring and swearing under his breathe today.

“Yeah—and if something does happen there who’re you gonna trust there? Gabriel?”

“I’m offended.” Gabriel says mockingly in his corner. “I’m perfectly capable of handling one human.”

“You’re not taking Dean.” Cas’ tone goes cold.

“Fine. But for all truce there is—I need you, Cas, to go.”

Dean begins to yell but Gabriel only shakes his head.

“You think you’d be any safer here, Dean? I don’t envy you for getting left behind, I tell you. There are specifically three signs before Ragnarök commences—the murder of some Pagan god’s already given cause he’s long dead. Then Fimbulwiner where cold winter will hit the world nonstop. The absence of sun makes sense, but it’s the third sign you gotta look out for. They are all waiting for it. Two monsters will appear to swallow of the sun and moon and when that happens— _bam_, giant gods will fall from heaven and tear this world apart.”

Silence follows his words with Sam and Dean exchanging looks. Castiel looks grave.

“Okaaay…” Dean breathes that draw attention his way. He is trying to be calm, to absorb the information as quickly as he can. From ghosts to gods, then more gods, just what the hell is this about? but all he could think about is the god who screwed with him on the empty highway. It seemed too much of a coincidence which begs the question, “So we gotta do what exactly?”

“I don’t think the third sign has happened yet,” Cas gives Dean a silent look that confirmed everything for Dean that yes, this is happening. Another apocalypse right next to last month like it’s an annual event. Like—yeah who needs a break from all of this? The hunter heaves a heavy sigh and shakes his head. He has to put his mind in the situation now.

_Fuck._

“Who among the Legion of Doom do we need to kill?”

Dean steps towards the archangel even though he’s got a good idea on his own. And even if it isn’t the answer, Dean will still hunt him. That fucking god is for him to finish. Sam must’ve seen something in his eyes because he wouldn’t stop looking. Like he can read Dean’s got something else. Dean only glares in answer.

“That’s the spirit. Dean, I mean he did mess with your pretty skin so—”

“Who was it?” Castiel narrows his eyes.

The look Gabriel gives him isn’t at all too encouraging. In the end, even Cas sounds threatening in his low rumble. “Who will lead the Old Gods to battle, Gabriel?”

“There’s always a leader there somewhere.” Dean intones trying to add humor. Nobody got it.

After a beat, Gabriel lets it out.

“Ares. Fucking God of War. The worst enemy you can possibly imagine.”

Dean whistles while Sam gapes. Cas grimaces.

“Talk about the big shot.” Dean smirks lamely at Cas who gives him a cutting look. He doesn’t understand why he is the only receiver of the angel’s bad mood when Gabriel’s the one who keeps on giving them bad news. But he realizes at least he knows Cas is focused. Nothing calms him than a grumpy angel back to soldier mode.

“Right you are, DeanO. But trying to locate him is almost as impossible as locating dad. And we can’t clash with his army the way you are thinking, Dean. And if you’re thinking of hunting them one by one—I don’t think three years will be enough. It might work if you have 7 billion people in this world hunting them, but with just you and Sam, and a couple of hunters, and Castiel? You’re going to die before this world and you haven’t even reached a thousand.”

“You want us to hunt the Ares?” Sam confirms. Dean does have that in mind already.

“Ares, Mars, hunt him, distract him, your game play.”

“He’s mine.” Dean snarls to no one in particular.

Castiel doesn’t say anything, but the chastising look he gives Dean is enough to silence the hunter.

To Gabriel, he says, “You’re sending them to their death.”

“I’m sending everyone to death.” Gabriel corrects which in Dean’s opinion is closer to the truth. The Archangel is right. They all can’t leave the world behind when some son of a bitch is walking the earth with apocalypse in mind. He turns to Gabriel again.

“Alright, so me and Sam will stay to kill Ares while you and Cas go to Ancient Rome to uhhh… find the switch on?”

“You mean _The Fire_.” Castiel says quietly, blue eyes flickering on the archangel. “We are looking for the Fire of Olympus flamed by Zeus’ lightning himself enough to light the universe. It’s in Ancient Rome?”

“That’s the last place I remember it hidden before it disappeared forever.” Gabriel nods, “And believe me, I followed it from Olympus. Very powerful, you don’t let something like that out of your hands. Alas, someone else got ahead of me and you know him, Castiel. Trickster don’t believe another cunning trickster. That’s why I need you there to convince him.”

“You’re looking for a dude in Ancient Rome with a Fire? Who’s the guy and can you trust him? Why would he want to help Cas?” Dean is obviously lost and a tad curious.

“You know him. You all heard about how light first came in the world? This version is the killer truth and yes lightning did strike a peg of tree branch. Y’know who did that? Who gave humans _Fire_ just because they cower inside their caves, shivering cold and fearing monsters in the night, just like now. Talk about those who love humanity too much.” The archangel looked pointedly at Castiel.

“Another Trickster from the Pantheon?” Sam looks puzzled.

“Of course, I don’t mean myself, _dickbag_.” Gabriel rolls his eyes. “I mean_ Prometheus_.”

A beat.

“Hang on,” Dean growls, feeling left out, “Prometheus? _The Prometheus?”_

“The guy who couldn’t stay dead because he’s been cursed by Zeus to die and revive again?” Sam presses on urgently, shifting to his brother, “The _Titan?_”

“You’ve met him?” Gabriel raises an eyebrow while Castiel glanced in Dean’s direction for the first time. Dean nodded eagerly, feeling a strange sense of elation at having his friend’s blue eyes rest on him even when the angel deadpans.

“Yeah. Guy’s called Shane who kept having a crow pecking on his liver. Cursed to die every day.” Dean licks his lips at the memory with arms crossed before him, remembering the proto-god. “There was this case, long time ago— we thought he’s a zombie. The guy kept coming back to life the next day every time he gets done. Couldn’t remember anything except his wife and child.”

It was Castiel and Gabriel’s turn to look at the Winchesters with confused expressions. Sam nods.

“I see… Prometheus was the one who ocean eleven’d Mount Olympus and stole the Flames of Olympia. He wanted to help humans so he was punished by Zeus but that means the Fire—it’s all true.” Sam recited like the know it all that he is, his eyes lighting up in excitement as it hit him, “You guys are telling us the Fire from Olympus is what we’re gonna hunt for? So we can really fix this up, we can really get the sun back?”

“Yeah, but Kenny doll is dead.” Dean injects looking at the angels with furrowed eyebrows, “We met the guy couple of years back and got killed in action, remember? _Zeus died with him._ We burned his body. He’s dead.”

“Not in Ancient Rome, he isn’t.” Gabriel assures them.

“He’s alive in Ancient Rome, of course.” Sam whispers the obvious to Dean who rolled his eyes. “_Immortal.”_

_“You think I don’t friggin know that?”_

Gabriel snorts. “Point is, Prometheus is also a giant dick that got Zeus was mightily pissed of his wayward son. Oh, look at that Castiel, finally found your parallel version. Didn’t you and Prometheus know each other?”

Castiel looks unimpressed and thoughtful. “I don’t understand… I have never heard from Prometheus after I saved him… our encounter is brief.”

“But you made a lasting impression as I heard. An advantage, don’t you think?” Gabriel crosses his arms looking interested, “The stories I heard about you two, boy, you’ve never really changed your taste, have you?”

Dean trains a thoughtful look at the angel. It’s the first time he’s hearing about this. It’s the first time he’s hearing about anything and it’s making him unsettled.

“So that’s the plan?” Castiel says calmly, turning to his brother determinedly. “We just need to find Prometheus, ask for his assistance and get the Fire. Then do everything it takes to bring it back here from Ancient Rome. Do you have the power to send us both back that far? You are fueled up enough for a century’s trip?”

“I had enough rest, Cassie, don’t worry. With my power I can go back and forth five times and bring you back in DeanO’s sweet arms without breaking a sweat.” Gabriel says smugly, winking at Dean. “Probably need to dance and party a little since Romans love their wine. Also need to keep a low profile, the place is crawling with pagan deities. They never liked me, nor you, Castiel. You snuck Prometheus out under their noses and eloped. I still hear them talk about you during luncheons hundred years later.”

“He didn’t deserve the punishment.” The angel says more to himself and Dean’s sure Cas means it. He doesn’t know why but it really friggin bothers him. So what if Castiel’s to meet some dead god who apparently saved the world before—who Cas saved because he does that a lot—and who seems to have taken a liking to the angel? What about that is wrong?

He remembers Prometheus, the god with amnesia. If Cas has already saved him before then what’s he doing up a mountain with lost memories…? Does it have to do with meeting Cas again? What happened to this _Back to Ancient Rome _game play? And why’s he getting irritated thinking Prometheus and Cas will meet again? The god’s dead. Is he?

“But this isn’t about me and him, it’s about the world.” Dean catches Castiel saying and he is snapped back to reality. Sam and Gabriel are nodding after the angel as he speaks, “If we have to go, then we go now. You can feel the trembling core of the earth… this is too dangerous. We need to go before it’s too late. I mean to come back at once.” For some reason, Cas flashes Dean a look.

“Sure,” Gabriel comments nonchalantly, “you never really get tired of trouble getting dumped on you, right, Cassie?”

Dean startles.

“Right. Well first, we need to dig for info… find Rowena…” Sam’s voice trails away from Dean, not really paying attention as Sam points out to the Archangel they need more information about Ares. Dean’s looking just straight at Cas.

It just dawns on him that the angel is going to travel a hell of a centuries and who knows when he and Gabriel will return? What if they don’t return? Worse yet, what if Sam and Dean fail and there’s nothing for them to return to? The hunter looks down his cross arms. There’s so much at stake, but he gotta make sure Sam’s safe. He’s gotta lead this world to war against not just one god.

_Billions of them._

If that isn’t daunting enough, but only fair. It’s really his fault it all came to this anyway. If he’d only ended Jack. If he’d only kill himself out there too, then Chuck could have gotten what he wanted and the world didn’t need to face this crisis. Dean just had to pull the trigger. Sure, he will regret killing Jack. But the two of them both know two lives are nothing against saving billions of people. Dean soaks into guilt. Maybe he can just ask Gabriel to return him to that time in the graveyard to pull the trigger.

Useless. Dean knows he’ll just try and kill Chuck there and then.

It’ll always be the same. They will always end here the same way. In a flash he remembers a universe—this universe with Sam—Lucifer in Sam’s body telling him how everything—just everything will end the same way. Dean feels his body grow cold. He and Sam they’ve always fought that destiny. Yet after so long, the world still ends the same way, with he and Sam in the middle. It’s still their fault. No, Dean’s fault. For being too selfish thinking free will can save everybody. There are reasons why prophecies exist—so it gives the rest of the world a chance to survive. Dean hadn’t seen it that way.

From Michael and Lucifer, to the alternate Michael, then Chuck.

The world seems like a dreary place with all the wrong things he’s done now coming back to haunt him and this time it’s pretty bad. Dean swallows hard.

There’s a minute of silence.

“Dean?”

Dean jumps. He finds Cas glaring, blue eyes like spotlights focused on his face. Dean hadn’t notice him come near, nor did he notice anyone else calling him. Gabriel and Sam are pouring over a book on the next table by the library, discussing details while Dean remained standing in the corner of the war room. Now Cas is in front of him, peering on his face with a tilt of head and concerned eyes.

His eyes are so fucking blue.

“Are you okay?” he asks in concern.

“Fine.” Dean just wants to see those eyes more. Since they’re about to be separated again. Castiel blinks at him

“Of course, you’re not. Dean, I want to know the extent of this ‘mark’ this pagan god gave you.”

It’s a polite request at least, but Dean swings around the angel looking defensive.

“I told you it’s nothing. It’s just a minor… _hiccup thing_.”

Castiel closes his eyes, takes a deep breath and eyes the hunter one more time.

_“Please.”_

Like Dean can say no to that.

The hunter grunts quietly, then reaches to his buttoned collar. Quickly, he pulls on the third button before taking the lapel of his flannel, revealing his tattooed chest. He feels Castiel’s fingers slowly touching his skin, tries not to groan because it’s damn not the place and the angel looks very _angry._

“Cas?”

“You call this…” Castiel bites scathingly, “minor hiccup thing?”

Dean blinks several times before looking down his chest. He didn’t know what Cas is all angry bout because there isn’t anything there. How wrong he is.

Where his tattoo lays now engrave a red marking across it.

“What the hell?” he traces the red blood mark too, then up at the angel, he mirrors Castiel’s fear. That Dean has been cursed. But Dean’s fear isn’t about him. His eyes flicker to his younger brother who is still arguing with Gabriel. Sam who’s already burdened with Chuck’s still strange gun and now this. Dean quickly buttons his shirt. Sam doesn’t need to know his shit. Sam doesn’t need to—

“Dean.”

Dean jumps because _fuck _he forgot Castiel is just a nose bridge apart from him. He turns at the angel who has to be sucking all his expression right now because of how focused he is. The hunter grunts, arms crossing around his chest to protect himself. Cas just silently watches him like he’s afraid Dean will suddenly disappear. Why these people still care about him despite all his shortcomings, Dean will never understand. Not when he remembers word by word of the things he told the angel.

Dean wants to push him away. Doesn’t want the angel involved. But with things that can go highwire in a second, he doesn’t want to do that anymore. He’s pushed enough people out of his life—and Castiel has been a big part of it sending him away will kill a half of the hunter.

Dean looks away, eye strained. Now it’s Cas he’s worried about because not only has the angel sacrificed everything for him, now he’s about to go on a dangerous quest to save Dean’s world again. Like losing his wings, his grace, his home isn’t enough punishment, Dean just had to drag Cas in all the catastrophe attached to the Winchesters. It never ends until all of them are dead. Dean should’ve just shut up his cakehole in hell, _dammit._

Cas seems to hear the screams in his chest because the next thing, white palms enclose around Dean’s cheeks. Dean feels the strength in those palms that have ended and smite hundreds of enemies, now turning gentle as it strokes his face. Then Cas clasps his face and pulls him close till they were nose to nose, eyes to eyes. Cas’ blue eyes flashes.

_“Don’t make me gut you, Dean.”_

“I wish you would.” Dean smiles but it’s broken and Cas sees that. The angel’s mouth falls open.

“Dean.”

“Honestly, I just want to figure out where this all began and stop it.” Dean blurts out, the heavy chain in his chest circling his chest, tightening and binding. If he can shout enough, he would tell the world _enough._ “But I can’t, Cas. It’s too late. Now you and Sam… if there’s any place I can keep both of you safe now, I would. But I can’t… cause I can’t do anything right.”

Castiel shakes his head the anger being replaced by desperation. Dean grits his teeth and reaches both hands-on Cas’ hands holding his head. He grips the angel’s hands tightly with glint in his eyes. He wants Cas to see and understand how it much it means to him.

“Cas, it doesn’t work…” Dean lips dry. “It’s always the same… he’s right.”

Cas’ eyes round in despairs. “Who’s right…?”

Dean doesn’t dare to say Lucifer’s name out right. Sam will kill him if he did, Castiel will get even angrier. He knows in his mind he’d never repeat what Lucifer said to another soul. Yet there’s some truth in his words even if it did happen in another universe.

“I’m sorry, Cas.” It’s more than that and he knows Castiel understood. That maybe this is where they will part. This is a goodbye. Dean doesn’t expect to see Cas after this and it struck him painfully when he admits it. But he won’t say it because it’ll only make Cas sad. But Dean’s sure he’ll do his goddamn best to destroy this Ares without holding back. He’s going to fucking kill any pagan gods who plans to get on his way. It’s the only atonement he can think for all his mistakes.

It’s a sacrifice from him the world wants.

Fucking sacrifice, he’ll show the world how to do it right.

“Dean,” Cas urges him to look in his eyes now and there’s fear in the angel’s eyes that Dean hasn’t seen before. The angel takes his time looking in both his green eyes. Dean closes his eyes and when he opens them, he’s definitely thinking it’s a goodbye.

Castiel takes that in and he looks so brokenhearted it rips Dean’s heart.

“It’s alright, Cas. It’s—”

He is quite sure it will be the end of him this time, but not so sure the next second when soft lips crash on his own. Seconds next, and he is responding. Soft lips sending strange voltage all over his body—and Dean’s mouth falls open, taking as much as he can from the angel who’s pulling on his lips, biting and nipping gently. His lips against Dean gives the hunter such a rush he reaches a hand to hold the angel’s neck. Just to keep him still, and kisses him more.

Cas pulls away after what feels like years, looking at Dean with so much love beneath his blue eyes.

None spoke. Dean doesn’t need to. He just stares at the angel with a whole new range of color flickering in his eyes. He thinks for a second if his heart is still in place. It is and beating so painfully against his chest. He doesn’t ask what happened. He remembers well. He looks at Castiel, really looks at Castiel to see that the angel is still looking at him with the same amount of intensity. He is breathing hard, much harder than angel should. Dean licks his lips, trying to make sure that just a wild second ago, he was just kissed and not in a bad way. No. It was… it was _heaven_.

But Cas is giving him all sorts of angry looks and Dean blinks. _Did he do it wrongly_—?

_“You have to live.”_ The angel demands. “There are people who loves you, Dean.”

Fuck living, Dean wants to talk about the miracle kiss. Cas seems adamant that they focus on this topic but when the angel notice Dean looking down his lips with such focus, he licks his lips and Dean loses it.

He swallows. God, he swallows when Castiel looks sharply at him, an admittance that the angel isn’t sorry. That it wasn’t an accident. Dean can read that in the way Cas gazes down his lips. Dean wants to kiss him again too.

He wants to take a moment, but the world is collapsing around them. He wants to let Cas know a lot of things, but the world is not giving them the time. He wants to let Cas know what really matters but it’s always wrong place and time. _After how many years? _Dean’s heart wavers at the very prospect that Cas would leave any second now, the thought of this being their end gutting him painfully.

_Like hell this will be the end—they are just about to begin—!_

“Dean—”

Dean groans at the movement of Cas lips when he calls his name. Heavens be damned and fall on him, he pulls Cas because he swears, he needs to teach the angel the proper way of kissing.

Cas jumps in surprises but doesn’t pull away. Dean kisses him fervently with slight guilt of not being too gentle. He presses on Cas, taking as much as he could the lips so soft and pliant. They both want this, he knows that. All those years of delinquent eye contacts and bickering, Dean’s always thought of the what ifs. But the pressure of taking much more from Cas who has given up everything for him always holds him back. Not now, when they are literally at the end of the world.

Cas responds well and that’s enough for Dean to relax his tensed shoulders. Instead, thrill of excitement fills him, something he couldn’t explain but which makes him pull Cas closer, locking him in his arms, running hands around his neck, holding the angel’s jaw firm and strong. _Reaching. _

He kisses Cas eagerly and full and when Cas opens his mouth slightly, Dean takes the chance to lick inside him, tongue meeting, sucking on that hot surface as much as Cas allows. Breathes are stolen although Dean is sure Cas doesn’t need that. Noise And wet, very wet as he opens his mouth to taste Cas again and again. He slips his tongue on the seams and couldn’t get enough, he chases for more. He’s kissed more than enough, but this is the first time Dean almost loses composure trying to take more without holding back. He can’t, hold back. He’s losing it and by thinking that it’s Cas, Dean groans and bites on that bottom lip Castiel usually bites on when in disapproving stance with Dean. Dean groans thinking he’s got it between his own lips.

Cas is letting him. Dean tenses at that sudden arousal peeking at his region. It’s good. So good. He sighs and opens his eyes. Blue eyes. _Fucking blue eyes. _Dean dips down for more.

What hypnotic magic is that?

Heavy books dropping on the floor with loud thuds has both Dean and Cas jumping

Sam is staring at them with eyes wide, hands hanging open in the air where the books just left him. Behind him, Gabriel is smirking like he’s seen the greatest porn in history and muses on the fact that he’s

“Hey, lovebirds. Don’t make me look like the bad guy now when I tear you both apart. I think the whole universe will put a curse upon me now after waiting for decades. See that? I shivered.” He jaunts.

Dean glowers at the archangel but it’s Sam he’s looking at. Sam looks a little taken a back, then with a shake of his head like he’s trying to wake himself to existence, he shrugs at Dean with a grim smile as if telling him—_if you must. _Then he joins Gabriel on the war table like it’s next to the most natural thing.

Dean blinks. He isn’t really sure what’s going on, but one thing he’s particularly certain, he isn’t letting go of Cas at the moment. He finds himself looking at Cas again. The angel’s already got eyes on him. Cas always have eyes on him it doesn’t seem out of the ordinary. Dean reaches a hand on his cheek. Blue eyes gleam to life and Dean is sure his touch is welcome. Their eyes meet.

So many words. So little time.

“Damn you, Cas. You really think I’d let you go anywhere after this?” he whispers, sliding a hand on Cas arms and entwining their hands. Why do these things appear so natural… so in place?

Cas smiles and Dean finds himself giving a giddy response.

“You have to. I have to bring you back the sun.” Cas says solemnly.

“I have it. Right here.” Dean breathes, cupping Cas face and framing it in both palms. Castiel blinks looking surprised, but he smiles brightly, the crinkle in his eyes making Dean’s inside flutter.

Somehow with all the wrong things he’s done in the world, Dean thinks finally he’s doing something right. He smiles at Cas. He just wants to fucking smile without anything tampering on his happiness, not the end of the world, not the responsibilities on his shoulders. Maybe not even his impending death.

Cas stares at his face like he’s seeing something new but the wonder in his expression disappears, and he suddenly grasps the hunter’s hand like he’s seen the flash of darkness in Dean’s eyes.

“You have to survive.” Cas says with a tight hold on his arm. “No matter what it takes, Dean. Promise me I’ll see you again.”

Dean doesn’t know how to place Cas’ tone—angry, worry, love—much love.

“Okay.” Is all Dean can say. Suddenly he’s afraid, but he doesn’t say anything. Love like this can be daunting. Much daunting than facing Ares who for now seemed like a distant concern. Like he doesn’t matter. Not really Castiel sighs on his shoulders. But they both remain silent. Instead, their bodies speak as they lean on each other for a tight embrace. Dean closes his eyes feeling all the energy is fast draining from him and at the same time, recharging him.

“Don’t make me pick you up somewhere I’m not suppose to be, because I will.” Cas murmurs.

Dean shivers at the thought of hell, then the Empty as Billy once informed him. He believes Cas will just crash and burn the layers of these walls and the thought both comforts and worries him. So, he nods.

“Be safe, Cas. I’ll be waiting.”

“Okay.” Cas returns quietly. “Will we be like this when I return?”

Dean chuckles and breaks from his arms. He stares at Cas softly.

“Depends if you still want me.”

“I’ve always wanted you, Dean.”

_Fuck. _He wants to say he doesn’t want to let Cas go but experience rules out the angel only really gutting him for real. This is their job. This is what they do. World first, them later.

“I’ll see you?” Cas asks when he positions himself beside Gabriel five minutes later. Sam and Dean stand a little a part from them in the space of the library after a thorough check that Sam is informed of things that needs to be done.

“Now remember, you don’t need to seek him out for a few days, we’ll see if we can come back as soon as we can.” Gabriel is saying more to Sam who actually is paying attention. Dean and Cas can hardly look away from each other. Frankly, Sam standing there is the only thing stopping Dean from leaping at Cas and kiss him again. “You got the weapon to kill a god, DeanO?”

“Yeah.” Dean answers and raises a silver blade with etched ancient runes and carvings on the hilt and blade the archangel has given him.

“Good. Now don’t waste any opportunities.”

“Don’t be dead.” Cas warns.

“I know.” Dean sees the challenge in Cas eyes. He knows he has to agree at this. He hates the idea but completely stopping Castiel seems flat out foolish. “Just come back quick, Cas.”

Castiel trains his eyes on Dean’s while Gabriel snorts again. Then he snaps his fingers and they are gone.

Dean’s lips tighten the moment the angels disappeared. It shouldn’t take them long to come back. They’re fucking angels in ancient time, what could go wrong? To hell if Dean believes himself. Sam taps a hand on his shoulder in sympathy.

“Don’t worry about Cas, he and Gabriel can do this.”

Dean grunts, making a note to really talk to Cas properly next time. Cas deserves it, after everything he’s done for everyone even when it was out of his favor. Dean shakes his head. Biting his lips, he reaches a hand on his hair that brushes down his face.

“You okay, Dean? Wanna talk about it?”

Dean glances at his brother, lost for words for a moment. He thinks of Cas and that’s precisely where his thoughts start and ends. Then he blurts out fast—

_“I’m a fucking idiot, Sam!”_

Sam’s laughing when Dean points out , but in the middle of this short respite, a loud smash on the library had Sam and Dean running towards it without second thoughts. Weapons from wherever they could grab because the corners of the Bunker was full of it, Sam and Dean stood shoulder to shoulder, guns up, pointing at the shadow that crashed on a chair, completely smashing it.

“Who’s there!?” Dean growls, stepping ahead of Sam. “Show yourself!”

“It’s just me.” Comes a grumpy voice. Gabriel emerged from the wreckage looking sullen and in pain as he was clutching on his bloody shoulder. The Winchesters’ eyes both widened and Dean took several steps forward, lowering the gun.

“What the fuck happened?”

“The _fuck _should I know?” Gabriel grits his teeth. He tries to move his shoulder but it is obviously broken so he only grunts and pops it right back with a pull on his own arm. Then he stretches. “Ah, that felt good.”

“Gabriel—” Sam’s expression is buzzing with plenty of meaning but Dean beats him to it. Eyes wide, he looks around expecting his best friend to come out of hiding. When he didn’t, Dean glares at the arch angel with a dreadful feeling.

“Where’s Cas?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Gabriel frowns, _“Stuck in Ancient Rome!”_


	5. Bad is the Plan that cannot Change

** **

**Malum consilium quod mutari non potest**

* * *

Dean slams Gabriel on the next available chair believing he was being gentle. Gabriel has healed most of his injuries by that time and was now frowning heavily at the Winchesters who had trapped him on the war room chair.

“What’s going on? I thought you and Cas are going to get the _Fire?_” Sam begins worriedly.

“What do you mean Cas is stuck in Ancient Rome? You left him there?” Dean’s roar rang in the Bunker. Gabriel found time to scowl at Dean.

“Despite the cute, dorky appearance, Castiel is still an angel, Dean’O. And a soldier. Been soldiering for a millennium, he can take care of himself. A bunch of halfassed Romans don’t stand a chance on an angel who charge hell to save your round ass—”

“Get him and I won’t ask twice!” Dean roars, almost nose to nose with the archangel whose lips thinned into a painful laugh.

“Alright, I think you guys are overdoing the Castiel-Care-Center. Anyone for team Gabe?” Gabriel chuckles as he taps on his bleeding side. Dean has to remind himself this was the only archangel who has the power to help Cas so no smashing his face for now. He manhandles Gabriel’s collar anyway but Sam stops him. The archangel rolls his head.

“What happened?” Sam repeats, tugging Dean back but failing.

“A rebound, that’s what happened. Some banishing spells against archangels. Old gods are worshipped in ancient times, of course they’ll keep us out. _Or they want me out.”_ Gabriel sighs dramatically._ “_You think it’s gonna be easy to return?” he crosses his arms on his chest testily. “It has to be the Pantheon. Let’s say they’re not my biggest fans. Those old geezers never got over me and it was only one time—”

_“Quit your bitchin! What about Cas?!”_

“Like I said, he’s stuck.” Gabriel impatiently. “Ancient Rome. Barely made it out without getting ripped. I don’t think I’m the best archangel for the job at the moment. Want me to call others? _Oh look, there’s none._” He plasters a smirk and Dean is really tempted to smack him one.

“What’ll happen to Cas?” Sam is genuinely worried as he kept a firm hand on Dean’s shoulder. “You think he’ll be fine?”

Dean gives him a glare of daggers. “_You think?”_

Sam gulps with a reproachful glance at his older brother.

“Look—I get all the concern, but _please._ Castiel’s a former commander in Heaven. Worrying for warriors will make some feathers flip and flap—” Gabriel says dismissively.

“I don’t care if heaven falls and burns at this point—”

_“Apparently.” _Gabriel narrows his eyes. “But for the record since Castiel’s able to slip the crack before I got thrown out like a catapult, we know he’ll complete the mission. He’ll pursue the Fire and then get back here with another archangel’s help, if he can keep his cool and actually managed to convince one. Boy, I wonder if he can even reach the ancient _me_ there, but I don’t recall meeting him from that point of time. Trust me, I’d remember. So maybe he failed and the future is now doomed. Doomer than it already is.”

“The only doom I’m seeing is me ripping you to pieces. You’re going to get back there and get Cas, you hear me?” Dean advances threateningly at the archangel again who stares at him dully. Next thing he knows, Sam is in front of him, shoving his shoulder back looking tired.

“Dean, enough.”

“How can you be calm? Cas is in danger and he’s centuries away —!”

“Yes, but getting too fixated about it won’t help. You heard Gabriel— he can’t do anything about it for now unless Cas gets rid of the sigils keeping Gabriel out. I mean, Cas is smart. He’ll figure it out. He knows what he needs to do. We can only trust Cas this time to pull through. He always does, Dean!”

“Pull through—oh you mean doing things on his own again?” Dean scoffs derisively. “He’s always been on his own, Sam! Fighting on his own from the angel’s rebellion to being human, to fighting Lucifer to getting himself out of the Empty! He’s been doing all those on his own—you think this time we might at least raise a finger to help him out!? _I’ve already made him fight alone for Jack and got on his way—you don’t go telling me to just wait for him to just pop up again!”_

“But if it’s the only thing we can do—”

_“Then I’ll find a way!”_

Sam hesitates at the intensity on the green eyes. Gabriel eyes Dean in amusement.

“Then we’ll figure something out, just—_just calm down_, okay?” Sam blinks several times at his brother before taking his cell phone out, “I’m going to call Rowena— _stop whistling, Gabriel—_ and ask her to come around if she can. I don’t think she’s far. We just have to make sure she gets here safe, okay?” he walks out with phone on his ears, leaving Gabriel and Dean to exchange heated looks.

But Dean is too preoccupied of asking himself why he let Cas out of his sight in the first place? He shouldn’t have let Cas go on his own. He knew how _fate_ has always been on Cas—_how Chuck has always been on Cas!_ The angel can barely take a break from all their mishaps and now this? Dean’s heart aches at the thought of Cas, probably wounded somewhere in Ancient Rome surrounded by fucking Romans and Old gods. Probably angels too because they don’t take time travelling lightly when it can change the course of history. Cas fighting on his own with the burden of saving the world. Dean wants to get to him and reach forward, to embrace Cas and protect him once and for all. He wants to do it badly.

He imagines Cas meeting his older version. The soldier version who does not hesitate to do his mission. What if his mission is to take out his double? Cas dying in his own hands? The thought sends a shiver on his spine.

Somewhere in the Bunker, Dean hears Sam talk to Rowena about preparing the books needed and is out to the library in seconds. Dean’s eyes fell on Gabriel again and vice-versa. He thinks he hears Castiel calling to him despite the epoch difference. The number of times Cas fought for himself was the number of times Dean isn’t beside him.

Those times will only continue if he doesn’t do something now. Cas needs him and Dean needs to be beside the angel no questions asked. He looks behind him. No sign of Sam. Dean makes up his mind. Steeling his eyes, he turns to Gabriel, closing his palms on either side of the armchair so their eyes are at level. Gabriel’s eyes gleamed in mischief.

Except Dean looked too lethal to kid around.

“You bring me there. _Now.”_

“You asking for both our death sentence, Winchester?”

“I’m saying you’re dead if you don’t.”

“And I’m saying Castiel will kill me anyway if you don’t get your pretty face off my chomping space. Plus he’ll really be killing me dead again for bringing your sexy ass to that dangerous place.” Gabriel smirks.

“Not like you have any other choice.”

Gabriel searches his eyes. Dean knows the archangel can see he means it the way he sighs.

“Alright, look. As much as its sweet and cocky that you wanna try and save my brother—why bother? Castiel will come back to you anyway and you know that. Give it a week or two, he’ll come around. You know he always does.”

Dean’s eyes flash. “I’m not waiting here for a miracle to happen.”

“A miracle that Castiel is always too happy to provide even if it kills him.”

“Yeah, I’m gonna get to him before he even thinks that. Quit playing! Send me there now! If you can’t even angel enough to bring me there, then what’s the point of you?” Dean hisses this in syllables that reverberated on the archangel’s skin. He doesn’t know why, but even if it’s true, even if it sounds truly impossible, Dean believes that _Castiel will return._ But it doesn’t sit right to him. It could be weeks and months or years… but Cas will return. Except not knowing what Cas might go through in that span of time… it scares the hell out of Dean.

That fear drives him insane and his heart longed to be beside his angel.

Gabriel frowns deeply looking both uncertain and questioning. He gives this look like how Cas does it but not so intimately and definitely not fond. Dean feels uncomfortable, almost growling and telling Gabriel only Cas is allowed to do that, but he didn’t need to say it. Gabriel nods after a moment.

“Alright, fine.”

“One condition.” Dean ignores the quip but feels satisfied at seeing the archangel raise his fingers.

“I’m supposed to be the one saying that, a-hole.”

_“Sam doesn’t follow. _No matter how much he threatens you, he doesn’t follow, y’hear?”

“You think I’d have the energy for a third trip? Doing this is enough to knock me out for a day, punk ass. I’m not even sure if I’m gonna be conscious when I get my ass whooped back here—”

“I don’t care.”

“Of course you don’t! You never think shit about angels—”

“_I care about Cas.”_

Gabriel pauses. Then he sighs heavily.

“That’s why I said—Castiel _will kill me. _Look DeanO, I’ll try to send you in the nearest possible place where I dropped Cas, okay? _So find him—then hide. _I wasn’t kidding when I told you Ancient Rome is dangerous because _Romans, _no. It’s basically swarming with dick gods, alright? Try not to get killed on the next second I drop you, get it, Romeo? And thank me later for all the kinky stuff you’re about to—”

_“Shut your mouth.”_ Damn, Gabriel can really talk your ears out. “I swear ’ll kill you before Cas could so you better put five centuries’ distance between us!”

_“You fucker. Take this and don’t get killed!”_ the archangel raises his hand where a weapon materialized out of nowhere. He hands it to Dean who recognizes it as an angel blade—except it’s made purely of glass. It vanished on his touch and he frowns at the archangel who smirks at his confused look. “You’ll find it useful. Mind your head now, Dean.”

There’s the snap.

The world tumbles and the worst sensation of being ripped out of your skin enveloped Dean. It was like entering a very narrow tunnel not even a finger can fit in and coming out of the other side formless. The next thing, his body slams on the ground without warning he thinks he’s cracked his neck. Wind was knocked out of his body and the pain that shoots in his body feels like he got stomped on by angry elephants who returned to do it twice. No, _thrice._

For a moment, he thinks he’s passed out. Then the world stops spinning as he laid on his back, staring at the hazy world for a moment. But at least there’s the sky painted in dusk. He groans a little, practically coughing as he smells dusty and earthy manure and grain. He immediately crawls to his feet after hearing voices from around.

From darkness he wakes up to a different world. He kneels on all fours collecting himself. Nausea hit him squarely but after a minute of resting with head bowed, the hunter is able to pull himself upwards. He struggles on his feet, needing to reach for something to lean on. He blinks around and finds himself in a narrow alley in the shadows behind tall infrastructure.

And not so alone.

He hears a whimper and for two dreadful seconds, he thinks it’s Cas. Dean turns around the corner, following the sound, his feet heavy and dragging. He doesn’t know how he ends there, but he stumbles in the middle of a small space behind larger buildings and in its middle a man is crouching on the ground with five or more silhouettes surrounding it. Dean blinks hard, still unable to focus his eyes. He thinks he saw moving figures around but he couldn’t be sure. The man in the middle whimpers and Dean’s reflexes to help it overcomes his fatigue.

“Cas?” he takes several steps forward, his hunter instincts telling him eyes are falling on him.

Something moves on his left and Dean snaps in attention. Somehow, being light-headed is no longer an option. Warning signs kicked in immediately. He finds a stable ground and pauses to look around him. The figures have vanished but there is still the man on the floor. Dean wastes no time to go to him but before he could even come too close, the man’s body jerked backwards, arching like a swan and then he screams so loud like he’s being strangled the way his mouth opens wide—

Dean gasps when out of nowhere a cloud of smoke springs from the shadows, diving unto the mouth of the man. The hunter quickly feels for his dagger always at his hidden pocket knowing exactly what just happened—

_Demons._ That’s what happened.

They are standing by the shadow of the walls, all black eyes watching him intently but instead of the usual shirts and jeans the hunter notice the length of their attire. All the meatsuits are clad in what Dean can only describe as ancient sacks forced-on-one’s-head, because that’s what the tunics looks like. Barely reaching their legs, the ancient clothing brought no difference in his current predicament.

Dean grits his teeth with his only weapon at hand. He doesn’t feel afraid—he’s done this too many times but his eyes keep turning back on the possessed man. All of them are possessed here. But there is no sign of Castiel.

In Ancient Rome—of all places—he just has the luck to end in a demon’s den. Fucking Gabriel, but the archangel did say he’ll try to throw him at the exact place where Cas should be. Which means Cas is really around. Did these demons do anything to the seraph? Dean’s insides boil in anger.

He needs these fuckers to tell him.

From the corner of his eyes, Dean sees the first movement of attack and he meets it with incredible agility for someone who has just time travelled. Next thing, a satisfying stab in the neck and a croak——cracks of light in the next beat as the demon gurgles and slumps on the ground dead. Another attacked him on ten o’clock—and then another behind. Dean thanks the slip of his still-catching-up-to-speed-foot and avoids getting nabbed as the demons collided. He stuns the rest of his attackers when he brandishes his dagger and two other fallen demons drop on the ground. There are some angry words he couldn’t understand in Latin— then he’s hovering in the air and flying backwards till his back hit a solid wall. Dean grunts but it only makes him grits his teeth. They got him trap on the wall, feet off the ground. A demon got him suspended in the air.

Dean struggles for solid ground, sharp green eyes scanning five to six Roman meatsuit surround him—until what Dean has been expecting happened—a demon essence surges from the corner directly onto him to possess him. The anti-possession tattoo kicks in and the demon is repelled back wailing in pain. The other demons now look startled at the hunter who grips his dagger tight, willing anyone to get close.

But a hum seems to come from all corner of the space alerts all beings in the vicinity. Even Dean feels the inexplicable change in the atmosphere. Heads turn left and right—and then Dean is falling on the ground. He hits it knee-first with groan escaping his lips. He takes a full minute to breathe the pain away, fist still clutching securely on his weapon. He waits for any attack but none came. He opens his eyes and looks around and finds himself alone with three dead meatsuits on the floor. Dean blinks. The demons are nowhere to be found, yet he still doesn’t feel safe.

Breathing hard, it takes Dean another full five minute to finally move his legs. He doesn’t need to understand what happened just then. He just has one thing in mind and that’s to find Castiel and bring him home. The thought stirs his mind clear to his objective and he is moving. There’s no sign of his previous clothes so he bends down and strip one of the dead guys on the ground. He pulls the thin, nearly none-existent tunic on his head, gives one look on the melted metal on the floor with no sign of the glass blade anywhere else, he turns and runs.

* * *

_Cas, where the hell are you?_

He clamps his hand on his mouth as if the words actually escape his lips. He remembers Gabriel’s warning as he quietly leans his back on the wall with eyes on the street. He isn’t supposed to pray to Cas because who knows which Cas will answer him? But how the hell should Cas know he’s here for him? That he’s not alone? Dean stamps the impatience down and quietly put his focus on what’s before him.

Currently he has taken shelter at the mouth of the same alley, observing the wave of Romans walking in their tunics and long robes along the street. There’s a buzz of excitement in the air that Dean cannot understand. Grinning Romans are greeting each other much enthusiastically he wonders if this is some custom where people are just giddy all the time. Maybe they know each other well around here. No matter, Dean cannot understand why they even bother to drag blankets for clothing anyway. Like most Roman portraits he’s seen, nakedness doesn’t seem to bother anyone here. Bare shoulders, legs, too much skin are all out there. Dean sighs and concentrates.

It’s about sunset and the half setting sun gives Dean a tiny feeling of hope. He makes a deadly serious pact that once this is all over with, he’s going to bring the impala up a mountain and just watch the sunrise and sunset for a whole year with Cas beside him and Sam. That of course means he needs to get those two things back then get back to Sam.

He realizes the awful position Sam is in right now. No sun, no brother, no best friend. Dean is driven to move much quicker with eyes scanning everything, observing everything. Being a hunter on the lookout for the object of his hunt without further information, Dean is on the waters here. How the hell do you find an angel in a large, bustling city? But he knows of one thing that can certainly help to up the game: _think like Castiel._

For a moment he stands there, imagining himself as a weary Cas, confuse and maybe hurt at the sudden jerk and disappearance of Gabriel. If he is anywhere near (he hopes it is near), the first thing Cas will do should be to discard his clothing because nothing attracts attention more than unfamiliar, funny tax account suits and black shoes. But Cas can be out of his depth sometimes. What if Cas didn’t give rats ass of his clothes? Of what other Romans think? What if he’s too hurt to care? Dean bites his bottom lip. He gotta do better. Okay. Alone Cas will definitely move to understand what happened. He will definitely find a place to stay and steer clear off from trouble.

_Really? Cas would?_

Dean is suddenly hit by the realization that Cas is someone he can never figure out. He knows Cas well enough to know that the angel will never give up at least—that he will try to find a way no matter how dangerous because Castiel always does. At the scheme of things, that is the only thing he knows Cas will do. And that is to return to Dean even if it costs him his life. Dean is afraid it might, but that’s why he’s here. The hunter closes his eyes and tries to calm down. He never wants to get his hands on Castiel badly than this moment. He remembers their brief kiss where the whole world stops. A brief touch on heaven he never though existed. It’s not the same with anyone he’s ever kissed and Dean swears he will taste that again. He needs Cas on that line.

He goes out in the open.

He trudges on the paved road, amazed of the early civilization’s progress at this point in time. He looks around without meeting anyone’s eyes. He knows what he is looking for and eager to find it. The crowd moves with ease, people stopping on the side as tents and stalls begin to fill his surroundings.

A market.

Large clay jars, small statues, accessories and many other trinkets are on tables and grounds laid out by vendors. Dean tries not to stop to ogle but the more he looks, the more he realizes how he really is in an ancient society where barely formed rocks make the most interesting and expensive possession. The air of excitement doesn’t dissipate. He hears them talk and greet—a man or two actually waves at him but Dean doesn’t stop. Another problem of his is the language. Sure, he can exorcise demons without tumbling the words in Latin, but it’s different when it’s casual interaction. He doesn’t open his lips when vendors call to him, avoiding anyone who takes a good look at him. For all it’s worth, he’s starting to hate that story of Babel for all the confusion.

Dean starts to worry that he may be walking in the wrong direction after another thirty minutes without finding anything. Grumbling, he finds a corner to stand. He finds a wall with window close. He palms his face in impatience because the sun is almost gone and still no sign of Cas. For brief seconds, he contemplates on praying. Like maybe the winged-Cas of this time is too much of a douche to hear his prayer or listen to one. He doesn’t even know Dean yet and maybe if he makes his prayer a bit less personal, less giving away anything, maybe winged-Cas will really ignore him.

They have no profound bond now. Only his present Cas should get this.

Turning his body to the closed window, Dean closes his eyes and counts to ten in his head.

_I pray to Castiel…_

Dean licks his lips, face frowning in concentration. What is he supposed to say to Cas without making the other angel find it suspicious—because maybe this is the only time someone’s praying to him or something like that? Dean shakes his head and sighs.

_Dammit, Cas. I’m here too. I’ll find you. _

He stops, silence filling his ears as he concentrates further but nothing else comes to mind. When longer minutes pass, the hunter decides it’s enough to let Cas know he’s coming for him. He turns back on the street to find a Roman in long robes watching him from the middle of the street. Dean frowns and cocks his head but his eyes widen when there on the man’s hand is a familiar blue tie with blood on it. Dean begins to growl and takes a step forward.

The Roman’s eyes go full black.

* * *

Dean makes a mental note to add on history sites on the internet how Ancient Rome is nothing but infestation of _demons._ He thinks no one will find it surprising, given early Roman’s reputation anyways.

He doesn’t fight back with the demon. He just nods and follows. Not knowing the language and not knowing how the demon found him, Dean knows he is at disadvantage. _Plus, this demon got Cas._ He gives the back of the demon a fix gaze, already planning where to dig his blade the moment he finds Castiel. But he needs to make sure Cas is okay. The blood on the tie doesn’t look assuring. He is lead on another alley, exiting on the street with a smaller number of people. Dean suddenly becomes wary. He doesn’t know how many of these passersby are possessed by demons. He doesn’t know if any hunters made it this far back. He wonders to the Valkyrie but the thoughts are pushed at the back of his head when they stop in front of a dirty cemented wall with a door frame on the side. Dean gets pushed in.

He finds himself at the backyard of a stone masonry surrounded by farming tools and equipment.

There is no one in sight but him and the demon who goes and drags him to the wooden stall rails. The scene itself is as if taken from a picture book of old civilizations with classic hay roofs, buckets, pens and work tools leaning on walls.

Dean inhales and wrinkles his nose at smell of straws. There’s a chaff in the air he can’t figure but it alarmed him when the demon throws him inside the stables and shuts the thick, wooden door on his face. Panic rings in Dean’s ears as he palms the wooden door. It’s made of layered metal. It’ll be impossible to break through. Hissing at being trapped on his own volition, he turns around expecting the smell of unholy stench of manure, but is surprised only the smell of wet earth assaulted his nose. The stable is small with around four dividing walls to contain horses which now stood empty. The windows are railed with metal and it takes Dean two seconds to understand no horse has been kept in here for a while. This is no stable.

It’s a prison cell.

Dismay fills his face, but when he hears a creaking sound from the shadowed corner of the stable, he pauses. A rustle of movements and huffing breath come next. It was coming from the dark empty corner of the room. Dean blinks to accustom his eyes in the dark. There are no animals around to occupy the other stalls and if this is a prison cell then it can only mean one thing—_another prisoner._

Dean’s eyes widen into sudden realization right as another figure starts walking towards him.

“Dean?” the figure steps forward and Castiel emerges from the dark, wearing only his white long sleeves this time and dark pants. He is holding himself awkwardly with right hand on his left elbow and he’s limping. Dean is already running to him, his green eyes swimming in relief as he locks the angel in his arms, nearly knocking air out on both their chest when they press too close. Castiel stands there, frozen with his chin on Dean’s shoulder. Dean just holds him like he’s holding for dear life, familiarizing his arms as he fit Castiel in his. It’s always perfect when they hug, but he still embraces Castiel like he has never embraced him before. He thinks how he’s been living without that familiar body press against him and makes a fleeting promise never to let go. Not again.

It’s Castiel’s grumpy voice that shakes Dean back to reality.

“Dean…_I_ _can’t breathe.”_

_“You’re okay.”_ He sighs and presses his lips on Cas’ ears almost saying the words. Cas stiffens as if he heard, but it can’t possibly be the reason. At least, Dean hopes. The he kisses him on the lips.

There’s a pause. The tension doesn’t leave Castiel’s body but he leans in to Dean more comfortably, his initial shock disappearing. Dean trails kisses on his wet neck and would have taken the soft lips again when Cas gives a shuddering exhale like he’s in pain.

_“_Forgive me for not acting this out properly the way you imagined, Dean.” Cas murmurs with a hitch in his deep voice. “But I still can’t breathe…”

Dean blinks, realizes what he just did and pulls back. The moment his body leaves, Castiel goes down like his knees have turned jelly—

“Cas?_ Shit—Cas_!”

Dean’s heart leaps when Castiel suddenly sinks down his feet. Dean catches him and gently kneels before him, strong hands holding the angel close. Despite the dim light, Cas’ skin glows enough to be seen. Dean drops one hands on Cas’ arm, another oh his pale cheeks. _Shit. _Cas looks really sick.

“Cas?”

“M’fine…” he huffs. Dean tries not to panic but his brilliant green eyes are too distracted, Castiel reaches on his cheeks to make him look down he angel. “Stop… worrying…”

“Just rest, okay? I got it covered. Gabriel told me everything—he’s my bitch by the way so don’t get your hands on him when we get back. Unless Sam’s gotten ahead of us, he can be a real pissed bitch, y’know. Besides, you really think I’ll let you be alone with Romans who wraps themselves in blankets and stuff like wolves looking for red riding hoods? Bad idea. Also, this place is a crack den full of demons. Really bad idea. Why didn’t you tell me you’re going to an exclusive demon party that lasts a century?”

Cas grimaces at him, blue eyes full of question at all the references. He opens his dry lips a moment, and Dean wants to sink down and kiss him. But Cas is hurt and Dean is being an idiot.

“Dean…” Cas tries again in gravelly voice. “You shouldn’t have come…”

“Well, I did. You’ve never heard how us Winchesters can stick like warts on skin? Shoulda warned you, we have homing devices on our asses. The only thing left to do is go back, right? We gonna get the Fire and we gonna fly back in Sam’s long arms and we’ll all be happy. Easy peasy.”

“Nothing is going to be easy peasy…it’s dangerous here.”

“Well, aren’t you some lucky bastard? You got Dean Winchester’s nickname.”

“I don’t think that fits the category of being a nickname.”

“Sue me. Hello, I’m dangerous.”

Cas looks confused for one second, and it’s adorable and all but in his weakened state, he can only whimper the argument before deciding against it and bowing his head. Dean is all sort of worried.

“Cas? You okay?” Cas leans on his shoulder and Dean nods. “Okay. Not okay. Hold still.” He wraps an arm on the angel’s back and heaves him closer to his body so Cas can have something solid to steady his body.

Cas gulps and opens his pained eyes to search for Dean. His blue eyes round a second time like he realizes this isn’t a dream. Dean rubs his thumb on the corner of his lips, peering on the glossy eyes that seems to trace all corner of his face. But there’s new intensity in there as something seems to register on Cas’ brain.

“Dean…?” he croaks, mildly amused than questioning. “Why are—?”

“Stop asking and rest.” Dean tries to sound ligh despite the hollow feeling upon seeing Castiel so hurt. “I’ll give you my last name if we come out of this alive?” _Please, lets._

“Why will I want to take your last name?” Cas leans on Dean’s warmth and rests his nose on the crook of the hunter’s neck. Dean feels the angel inhale his sent and considerably relaxes further. Dean now sits on his ass, cradling Castiel with his chin on top of the angel’s black hair. He presses his lips there, whispering assurances to Cas, telling him that he is safe, that he is not alone. There are many questions he wants to ask but Cas needs to rest. He doesn’t know the toll of injury on Castiel, but upon closer inspection, he is relieved to find no wound though there are fresh blood on his sleeves. He caresses Castiel’s arms and holds him tight. He finds twigs on the angel’s shirt and wonders if he’s been sleeping on the haystack. There are pieces already sticking on his black hair which Dean removes fondly.

The angel only sighs in contentment when Dean gathers him on his arms.

“Dean?” it’s uttered so softly the hunter barely catch it.

“Cas?”

“Stay with me… don’t leave my side…” he grips on Dean’s tunic tight and it’s more than just their situation. The hunter nods.

“Okay.”

_“I want you too, Dean.”_

“I know.”

Cas must smile because Dean can feel his lips next to his throat.

The feeling is still strange yet familiar; it stretches throughout his whole body, marveling and expanding. It’s overwhelming, this new realization. He remembers his words to Cas just then. The words he repeated like it means everything to be said out loud. _I love you._ It’s daunting now that he recalls it, yet makes Dean feel utterly complete. The moment he thought he lost Castiel again, he knew he should be telling him these lines next time. His emotions swirl inside him. This _love _he constantly ignores because he thought he shouldn’t.

But the world is ending, and Dean is afraid of many things. Losing this. Losing a piece of his soul because in the middle of all the chaos, there’s only one persistent thing Dean always knows to be _true_—his feelings. His heart. His love for Cas which now knows no bound nor length nor depth nor division of time; it’s just absolute.

It’s truly strange – frightening to him even – how Cas seems to be a different being than when they first met. The angel who has seeped into his life, to his heart, filling him with passion he doesn’t even know he is capable. He can’t remember life back then without him. If feeling like he couldn’t breathe every time Cas is not around or when Cas is in danger, if that isn’t love then Dean doesn’t know what is. If he looks back in their history and asks himself where it began, Dean will say probably way back to hell. He holds Cas and minutes pass in silence, hours maybe. It’s warm here despite sitting on the cold floor. Cas breathes evenly and Dean touches his cheek.

Cas slowly peers at him from half lidded eyes. Dean can see his blue eyes looking much clearer.

“How are you feelin’?” he lets his thumb trace Cas’ bottom lip.

“Tired…much better.” He closes his eyes. Dean hums like he’s making a baby fall asleep. Cas snuggles closer, pressing on Dean’s lap so hard the hunter ignores his already half hard bulge.

“Dean.”

“Cas?”

“Something’s different with you…I can’t… too weak…”

Dean raises eyebrows. “Better not force it then. Don’t want you falling hard on me twice, but “I’ve no issue with that—”

“Dean…” Cas sighs again. “Something…”

“Cas? You said you couldn’t breathe a while ago? Does that mean…?”

“Human. Will be fine…” Cas confirms, falling silent. He easily slips into his unconscious state. He doesn’t ask how Cas is so drained of grace. Gabriel catapulting back to 21st century must have made Cas use everything he’s got to jump. Cas did everything to survive. Then he was captured by these demons. Do they know he’s an ange? Judging from their lack of attention till then, Dean thinks they don’t. He thanks Cas being temporary human then, but he snuggles the angel close as he leans his back on the wall. He is suddenly aware how cold the air has become. Evening must have fallen and Castiel doesn’t wake up even when Dean kisses his lips.

* * *

Several hours later, Dean finds himself gasping for air, his nightmare much too real to be forgotten. He sits up, then finds Castiel still fast asleep on his chest. The hunter blinks for a moment, trying to place things in order but all he can think of is hell and the black-eyed demons holding Castiel’s trench coat and tie. It’s silly, really, but it knocks the wind right out of his lungs. The only consolation is finding Cas in his arms. Dean stares at him for a moment, then lets out a long painful sigh.

The angel is breathing fairly normal, Dean is sure some color must’ve returned on his cheeks. Moonlight sidle through the gaping holes of the stable but everything is peaceful. Dean keeps wiping Cas’ lips with relentless kisses to moisten the dryness. Cas is hot. Literally hot and the hunter is aware the angel just caught a fever. He wipes the sweat on the angelic forehead and looks around for water. Of course, Cas needs water but Dean can’t exactly get it. He thinks about breaking the door, but with Cas like this, he doesn’t think getting attention from the demons outside

There are moments Cas gasps in his sleep, his face contorting painfully but Dean is always there to placate him. He doesn’t know what nightmare Castiel must be having right now he’s human. It must be one of those thousands of memories he couldn’t keep wrestled in his weak form. Dean sighs and bows his head.

It must have been his own exhausted mind, but frustration envelopes Dean for being useless. He lets the tip of his nose graze Cas’ eyelids. Cas refuses to stir. Dean gulps, suddenly afraid of those close eyes he has seen once on a table that still haunts him to this day. Night deepens and so is Dean’s fear.

“Cas, please… don’t leave me here, you son of a bitch…” he snakes his hand on the angel’s neck and held him closer to his chest. What if Castiel doesn’t get his grace back in time when the demons remember they are here? What is he to do in the Ancient time with no help for his angel? What good is he alone?

From experience, Dean knows he is never better. Being alone is never, he could never_. _Not without Sam. Not without Cas._ It kills him slowly inside._ He’d give anything for his family. He’d rather die than be left alone. He doesn’t know for how long but he falls asleep there. His fears must’ve been too strong because the next thing he sees is _fire. _His house, father leaving, Sam dying... then fire from the pit. _Hell._

_He thought he has escaped them… _a small whimper escapes his lips. _Everyone’s gone._

It’s a brief moment, but from the dark slithering flames there comes a tall shadow. Red eyes stare a him. Dean can’t ever forget that face. He starts to run but the pain in his skin, cutting through draws him back—he’s getting sliced in pieces—in the torture hall with this—this creature—

Strong grip on his arm suddenly awakens him from the short slumber. He finds himself staring at Castiel whose blue eyes are intent on him. The angel is looking up at him like he knows exactly what Dean has seen. Castiel sits up with strength that surprises Dean.

The angel reaches on his cheeks, cupping his face in this intimate frame and Dean leans on his warm touch. He feels Cas wipe something from the corner of his eyes. He looks at the angel. Cas doesn’t look away from him. Dean gulps his cry.

“Okay there, Cas?” he hates the shaky breath that escapes him. Cas is looking at him intently. Dean licks his lips but there’s no telling what’s to happen now. Cas seems gaining his strength back at least. Strong enough to hold him.

“Whoaa—easy!” because Castiel just tried to stand, “Where d’you think you’re goin?”

Cas huffs. “I’m.. gonna fucking kill my brother for bringing you here.”

Despite their circumstances, Dean laughs, the initial feeling of fear getting sweep away with Castiel now blinking at him. “We’re gonna be okay, Cas. I promise.”

“_I’m here, Dean.” _The angel says gently.

“What?” Dean says blankly.

“I’m here… _you’re not alone. I will not leave you. _They can’t hurt you.”

It takes Dean a moment to fully comprehend what Castiel has said, then they are kissing. One moment Dean is soaking in Castiel’s determined blue eyes, the next second their mouths are pushing against the other with so much force it will not be surprising if they get cut in the process. But Castiel lets him in first, opening his mouth and letting Dean’s tongue in tracing and invading all the much-heated spot with wet sounds filling their ears.

Dean is so eager for contact of skin he slips his hand at the hem of Cas’ shirt and pushes it up. His palms trace and scratches on the angel’s ribs and firm abs, up to his pectorals. Cas gives a shudder and Dean doesn’t know he can do that to the angel.

He wants to hear more. Maybe make Cas cry the way only he can.

They don’t break the kiss. Dean groans when Cas bites his bottom lip that turns to an open mouth battle saga. It’s satisfying to take Cas soft lips. The burst of light and sparks in Dean’s eyes is a reminder how this moment will not be forgotten. How this moment will be their start. He loves kissing Cas. Maybe love all of Cas after all. He feels cock twitch. He adjusts Cas on his lap to make contact with his ass, opening the angel’s legs on either side of him. Dean can’t help moaning when he feels his cock tugs up and press. He sucks on Castiel’s lips with much gusto, turning those chapped lips into swollen pair and still not feeling enough. He dips on Cas’ head every inch of tongue in. Cas wraps arms around him, the heat of his skin press against Dean’s. They both tug on their clothes with the tunic much easier to access and since he’s on commando, Dean doesn’t bother. His cock makes an appearance on its own.

Cas gulps when he notices and tentative hands wrap around it. Dean inhales. Cas is stroking him. Slowly at first, hesitant and not knowing. Dean helps him. He wraps one hand on Cas’ fingers, shapes it around his length and then fucks in his hand. Cas’ eyes widen at the sound Dean is making. And Dean is looking at him with so much lust and want the angel surges forward to capture his lips. He thrusts on Cas’ hand; at the same time his own hand goes to unzip the angel’s front.

Somehow Cas has sensed all his wants and is giving him. Castiel always gives and Dean always takes. The hunter let the words slip his mind as he gently takes possession of the angel’s hardened length.

Cas’ squirms when Dean slips a hand in his boxers. He pushes forward till their cocks are on each side, Dean holding both with larger hands and stroking. The feel of both cocks grinding skin to skin is a palpable experience. Dean groans again, Cas drops his head on the hunter’s shoulder. It’s hot and dirty, precum on precum slips at the tip of both reddening heads. Cas mutters something in Enochian, his mouth opening when Dean strokes hard enough.

“Dean…” he whimpers as he comes, leaning on Dean’s hard body where his cum covers the hunter’s tunic. Dean doesn’t let go of Cas’ length, though he’s about to come to. He takes time to feel Cas’ limping cock, before turning his nose on the side of the angel’s ear.

“I want to come inside you.” He whispers. “Do you know what that means?”

Cas does and he kisses Dean hot and wet.

He gets the button on the uneven shirt loose and when Cas front is expose, Dean wastes no time running his hot tongue on his neck, peppering him with kisses as Cas arches and turns his head to give Dean access to his skin. His unbuttoned shirt slides down on his arms, leaving his milky-white skin open for Dean to take. Dean curses because he wants to do many things and reach many skins at once.

Cas’ body is such a turn on from his sweaty neck down to the middle of his chest, to the pack of abs that makes Dean jealous. Dean grazes at the skin, from his jaw, kissing back to the middle of his throat, biting and suckling on the hot skin till his mouth locks on the angel’s nipple. Cas wheezes before him, letting out an embarrassed cry and Dean wants to hear more. He flattens his tongue on the hard bud, biting on it gently while Cas rubs his own erection on the hunter’s stomach. Cas is lost in his own arousal as he grinds his ass on Dean’s lap, calling his name. Dean works his hands in Cas pants, wanting to rip the seems but he settles on firmly putting both hands on the angel’s waist. He pushes Cas’ hips down he’s sure Cas can feel him. He thinks he’ll come just from that.

“Oh, Dean…” Cas opens his blue eyes blown and aroused.

Dean can’t help licking in his mouth again, hands on Cas’ back pulling him closer. His on Cas’ neck again because who doesn’t see how it’s begging to be full of his marks. He bites Cas’ ears too and whispers again.

“Want my cock in you, Cas… but not now… you just recovered… don’t want you hurt.”

“I can take it.” Cas replies stubborn, capturing Dean’s jaw with mouth.

“Trust me.” Dean whispers, guiding Cas’ hand back on his still hard dick and thrusting in it. “I want to fuck you… so hard till you’re crying then fuck you again.”

“Sounds good.” Cas hums, grinding his ass on Dean timing his rhythm on the straight strokes while Dean fucks in his hand. “Let’s do it.” Dean actually laughs.

“Can wait… want you when you’re safe from here.”

“I want you, Dean.” Cas whispers and Dean comes with his groan drowned in Cas’ mouth. A jet of cum lands on Cas’ cheek and bottom lip that has Dean’s eyes opening wide. Then like he doesn’t get turned enough, he puts a hand at the back of Castiel’s head and pulls him, sucking on his own cum and licking inside the angel’s mouth noisily and Cas wraps sweaty arms around him. Dean circles arms around the angel’s lean body and pulls him closer.

He can die right there and then, but not yet.

The kiss is sufficiently enough for now.

They are still basking in the afterglow when sounds of shuffling feet alerts Dean. He straightens and looks at Castiel who’s also eyeing him grimly.

“Company.” Dean mutters, taking hold of Cas’ buttons and fixing it, not wanting anyone to see the angel this way because fuck anyone will get ideas if Cas is like that. He’ll rip anyone in pieces if they as much touch Cas. He next pats Cas’ soft cock inside his pants and zips it protectively. Castiel watches him with a tilt of head and does the same for Dean’s cock that only need to be hidden under a piece of cloth. Somehow the two found each other’s’ eyes, hidden amusement unsaid in the air. Dean can’t do anything about the sex hair though. Cas is hot like that.

Dean lunges for another kiss before they hear the wooden doors open. Dean keeps a steady hand on Castiel’s back as the angel pushes off him on the floor. The hunter brushes a shoulder in front of Cas, a stance that half hides the angel behind him. Castiel grabs at the back of his waist in turn.

Then two shadows appeared just before the stall where Dean and Cas are sitting. Both are demons and Cas’ hold on him tightens. Dean wonders if Cas has his mojo back enough to get the attention of the demons but neither showed any special interest in the angel’s direction. He sees their eyes find him, sees the dark glint in their faces, and then one of the demons raises a palm in Cas’ direction. Cas’ hand disappears on Dean’s waist as he is sent flying a meter back on the wall with enough force to knockout the already weakened angel.

Dean’s rage soars high—

_Sons of bitches—_

But they are on him next. Dean stops struggling when he realizes he’s the only one they want. Cas is safe. Knockout with a serious bump on his head, most likely with concussion and a bad temper when he wakes up, but safe.

For now.

Dean lets himself get dragged outside the cold night, the stars blinking above him. Dean hates them for some reason, sparkling up there without a care in the world. Then the stars are gone and Dean is seeing ceiling. He is pushed inside the stone house to meet the master of the house.

Some slick Roman in robes that is never meant to conceal anything. Dean wonders if all statues he’s ever seen sculpted by Michelangelo and Da Vinci are actually based on handsome naked men who are actually naked.

This guy sits on his long soft arm chair with soft cock resting on his thigh and when his eyes land on Dean, he gapes. Dean silently curses and drops his eyes on the ground. He doesn’t want to give the signal, but the creep is leering at him and when it gets down to it, Dean will get violent.

He eyes his surrounding for any weapons, wondering why the glass blade isn’t appearing on his hand once he starts summoning. He doesn’t think any other weapon will work though.

A hand slips under his chin and he is forced to look up. He meets Mr. Master’s eyes and sure enough, they are black. Yep. Nothing to last a night than a horny demon.

Dean exhales and gives the demon a deadly look.

It only serves to arouse the demon who gives him a wicked grin. The next thing though, Dean sees two more demons come from the door way behind him, and then the unconscious Cas is dropped on the ground. Dean growls, then he’s thrashing the demons on his sides, anger surging forward even though he knows it’s futile to fight.

Blood splatters the ground.


	6. The Poison is in the Tail

**In cauda venenum**

* * *

Dean has taken after the old Bobby in some respect like how paranoid the old man was who believed when shit happens, buckle up and raise all guns it will rain blood.

When Dean gets dragged out of the stable, his only fear is for Cas. The angel is already injured and trying to recuperate. Plus, the fact that they got a little lost in the moment there, Dean doesn’t want to make him fight unnecessarily if it’s just to help Dean because Castiel despite being inured will do exactly that. So, after putting arms down and not resisting, he was taken outside. Dean gets taken inside the house and hits the ground first. But then he sees Castiel getting thrown on the ground too and that’s where peace gets thrown out of the window as all the hunter sees is blood.

Dean growls and lands a punch on one and then two demons. He tries to reach a hand towards Cas who remains immobile on the ground, but hands yank him back in position. He glares and sees the demons he beat already in their feet looking much angrier. Dean wants to give them a piece of his mind at the same time wanting nothing but to get to the angel. Like anyone could keep him from Castiel at this point.

Someone kicks his heel and Dean falls to the ground with a grunt. Three demons hold him with one tugging on his hair with such ferocity Dean feels his scalp peeling off. They force his arms back and have him kneel in the middle of the room hands grappling him by the shoulder. He glares at them—all of them including the naked-Roman-lord-shit on his sex-chair and shifts closer to Cas, not wanting any attention on his vulnerable form.

Exchange of words come next in Latin. Dean tries to understand but he can only get bits of words familiar like ‘you’, ‘earth’ and ‘no’. Often the master’s eyes will fall on Dean and the hunter knows he’s gonna get laid if whether he wants it or not if he doesn’t do anything about it. The Roman possessed by demon—they don’t know any Winchester yet. Maybe it’s time to make them remember. He wills desperately for the glass blade to appear, like it magically did the last time he was attacked by a pagan god. But nothing. Gulping, Dean looks over to the unconscious Cas whose face is far from peaceful. He is on his side which makes an awkward angle for his head, his right neck stretched and exposed in the light. Dean has this sudden urge to pull his collar upwards and tuck him under thick blankets. He wants to hide Castiel from anyone. He’s too beautiful to be left sleeping like that in the open. Anyone can get the idea.

He looks back the Roman shit when he feels eyes burn on his head. The Roman clad in parallel robes doesn’t look ready to get Dean off his mind yet. In fact, he looks more of a curious observer as he eyes Dean that weirdly translates to checking out. But Dean doesn’t like the way the man’s eyes lingers from him to Castiel.

Roman-shit starts speaking. In Latin no less that has Dean blinking.

How could he forget? _These men speak different language!_ No wonder they kept looking at him like he’s something supernatural. Well, thinks the man from another time. _Touché. _But they couldn’t understand a word he is saying! A sound of question is thrown his way. Dean doesn’t answer. He can say a word or two but frowning doesn’t get him anywhere. The demon behind him throws his head back, making Dean grit his teeth and shout insults and curses in Latin that flew in the air, making the demons stare at him.

Then Roman-shit bastard is laughing. Like really chuckling with dancing eyes upon Dean. Great, now he thinks Dean is also a guy of humor. Make no mistake, Dean really is, but he isn’t exactly available. He and Cas may not have yet worked on that, but what the heck. He makes a note to propose the next thing Cas is back on his feet and able to say his sweet yes.

Funny how getting thrown in apocalypse and Ancient Rome fast forward everything Dean’s been keeping himself from admitting. But again. _What the heck._

Latin words are exchanged again and Dean figures it’s about him. The hunter watches as Roman-shit’s henchmen nod at each other before he feels someone moving behind him. The next thing, he feels a pressure on his neck. Then he gets slammed on the floor, cheek flat on the stone. His hands are pulled back and bound roughly with rope. He grips his fist tightly and feels the blood leave his arms. The binding is tight enough for Dean to hiss and when he feels the hands leave him, he straightens with a murderous look in his eyes.

Roman-shit is already standing in front of him, but his eyes are on Castiel. Dean’s eyes turn icy. He squares his jaw, watching the Roman assess Cas and daring him to make a move. The moment the Roman-shit did, Dean is lounging forward fiercely, but the pressure of his captors’ hands is back on his shoulders. Dean tries to shrug their hold but they only hold him back more. So, instead, he watches as the naked Roman-shit steps closer to Castiel, a frown on his face as he kneels on one leg in front of the angel.

Dean grits his teeth. If this guy does anything to Cas…

The man reaches to Cas’ collar and flips it in his fingers. Dean is frozen. He forgot Cas is still in his modern long-sleeved shirt and pants. He should’ve torn those apart when he had the chance—but then Dean is suddenly torn as well for this meant exposing Cas’ naked side to the world which he will never let anyone see. A kind of stupid possessiveness fills him, this same possessiveness licks on his nerves hot and raw when he watches Roman-shit raise his chin in a display of both perplexity and curiosity. Then he runs his hands-on Cas’ shoulder blades, easing the angel on his back. Cas is still out of it but Dean is assured by his steady breathing that the angel is alive.

Then the Roman’s hands are flipping the collar, tracing the buttons and undoing it much to Dean’s annoyance. He takes his time to undo the last button then pushes the clothing off to Cas shoulders. Dean winces at the pull on his hair when he tries to move again but he’s had enough when he watches the Roman run his hands all over Castiel’s chest. _What the hell is he doing…? _There’s a palm caressing Castiel’s neck up to his cheek. The Roman turns Castiel’s face for a better angle. Roman-shit licks his own lips.

_“Son of a bitch— hands off!”_

The Roman glances in his direction and what Dean sees in his eyes instinctively gave him a warning. There’s a glint there that was more than curiosity this time but _arousal._ Dean is at the end of his tethers. Bombs are off in his ears, blood coiling and static ready to launch.

_“Touch him again and you’re dead!” _Dean shouts more, his shoulders shaking, his eyes full of daggers. The Roman shows no sign of stopping, hand sliding to Cas neck— before Dean could stop himself, which isn’t part of the plan at all, he lunges forward and knocks the man off his feet. He collides in him, head first in the chest—finding satisfaction in hearing the demon groan and tumbles on the floor.

There are also shouts behind him but he didn’t care. His Latin is like a five years old speaking, but he didn’t need to interpret their shouts. Before Dean could attempt another attack, someone grabs on his ropes and Dean hisses when he is pushed to kneel on the ground again. His knees scrape the ground but he didn’t mind it all. As long as no one touches Cas.

He raises his head in time to see the Roman dust himself from the ground, his long robes dirty. The Roman-lord-shit is giving an indignant look—like he has never been humiliated in his life. Dean only glares back. He is met by Latin words he is sure is meant to insult.

Dean keeps his frown, his eyes unblinking. Anyone who lays hands on Cas are all going to lose a finger, he swears. He still has no idea how to escape this place. Still has no clue what will happen to them. But no way in hell is he going to let Cas be prey to these horny sons of bitches. He will protect Cas even if it costs him his life.

The Roman-lord-shit is speaking to him again. Dean only glares. He thinks he hears the common ‘you’ phrase as the man slowly walks towards him. Is this idiot thinking or not? Doesn’t he realize Dean can barely understand? But Dean holds his glare, his own eyes not backing away. _That’s right asshole, come closer and I’ll smash your head open with mine._

Dean is already thinking of the number of ways to make the man bleed when a hand reaches to his jaw. Dean grits his teeth when his head is jerked forward. The Roman is grimacing now as they face each other in close proximity, almost nose to nose. The Roman is still speaking, much slower this time and Dean feels the hair at the back of his neck stand up. He blinks at the Roman whose eyes have that look of arousal again before it purely turns black. He shifts closer and Dean has to pull his head away—only for his hair to be pulled back crudely. The motion pulls on his head and angles his neck exposed. Dean feels the man’s radiating face on the side of his cheek, whispering so closely on his ears, his breathe hot on his lobe. Dean closes his eyes and grits his teeth.

Yes, even this one doesn’t need translating.

He knows exactly what the man is lucidly saying.

The hand holding his hair suddenly loosens and Dean watches the man pull a little away to look him in the eye. Dean is ready for him, his green unblinking eyes aggressive and determined. This guy thinks he can break Dean Winchester? He needs to look for another man not living in hell then. The Roman reached for his chin, this time rubbing his thumb on the side of Dean’s mouth, his eyes full of lust.

_Ah, shit…_

Dean refrains from licking his dried lips. Nope, that will definitely signal his end game.

Dean feels hands clasp under his arm and he is pulled upward to a standing position. Then he is being led towards the stairs where Dean knows that yes, someone is going to get laid alright. It speaks much of his _sex_, to be already in second base an hour after landing in Ancient Times. The thought didn’t sound as amusing.

He clenches his teeth as he gets dragged inside up with dark ceiling and arching pillars. He doesn’t see much of the house except the stone steps, more walls and then a room without a door. There is a large bed in the middle with plenty of white blankets and Dean wonders if this is the sex room. How many has this dirt bag brought here without their consent? Dean stands still and would have fought his way out if not for a fact that he didn’t want any attention to Cas now.

He looks beside him as the Roman dick saunters to an oak cabinet and takes something from one of the drawers. He nods at his demons—_why are these demons following his orders, Dean will never find out—_who pulls Dean and shoves him on the bed in his stomach. The bed is fucking soft, he feels his body sink as he tries to get order in his body. Dean is fighting his way out of the covers when he feels a weight above him. The hunter struggles harder but with an ass on his back, he can only grit his teeth.

_“Fuck off!” _he grumbles, feeling hands on his neck.

The Roman-lord-demon-shit above him smirks as he twists Dean’s head on the side. Dean glares at him from the corner of his eyes. He is essentially trapped under the bed. Dean would have done anything not to be in that position. He isn’t going to get laid—not by a demon for fuck’s sake!

The Roman says something again, caressing Dean’s jaw and Dean wants to crack the Roman’s head on the wall but his binding is providing much difficult to undo. The man suddenly takes control of his jaw, and before Dean realizes what is happening, something cold and juicy-sweet is sliding down his throat, trickling down the side of his mouth to his neck. He chokes as he tries to wriggle out of the man’s clutches, fear creeping up to him because he is not just getting forcefully drink something he doesn’t know— he wildly thrashes, but the firm elbow on his shoulder blades has him firmly planted on the bed till the last drop of the liquid falls in his mouth.

The hand disappears and Dean coughs violently, eyes straining and feeling nauseous. It doesn’t bode well to be drugged when tied at the back, Dean knows because he’s been in similar fucked up situation but usually he’s able to manage because _A)_ his arms are not bound but cuffs he can easily get out from and _B) _Sam is always there to get him out fast.

Problem is, the moment he closes his eyes, he feels his body heat up in an unknown coil of pleasure. His dick twitches and soon gets hard without getting touched. Dean panic as he realizes this damn Roman-lord-demon-shit has indeed drugged him to make him pliant to sexual pleasure.

Dean grits his teeth when he feels his shoulder getting shove and his back sinks into the bed. He opens his eyes wide when weight slams to his torso. He looks up and sees the Roman staring at his erection possible seen through his tunic. Dean groans out as his dick painfully arches on its own, like getting hard isn’t the only thing it’s planning.

_Did he swallow a dopamine or something!?_

Cold hands begin to undress Dean from below. The hunter growls when air hits the tip of his cock. Intense blood rush courses through his veins and tethering on the very tips of his fingers and then to his dick. Dean bites his teeth as his head starts to feel light, and he knows his body is burning and wanting nothing but to be dressed down. His bulging cock gets touched and Dean turns his head on the blankets so as not to show his expression to the only person with him in the room because _fuck, he is so hard._

_And so screwed._

What the hell did he make him drink?

The Roman strokes him slowly, then reaches a free hand on Dean’s cheek. Dean exhales because his body likes everything no matter what it is. He berates himself for the betrayal of his body but his mind is already convinced he needs to be touched. The burning sensation in his body begins to get insatiable, his breathing starts to get erratic and his mind, his mind is blowing.

The hand slides on his thighs, pushing it on each sides and Dean gives out an uncontrollable moan. _Shit! Shit! Shit!_

The Roman begins speaking to him like a lullaby and Dean’s body shivers when the man touches his abdomen, flattening it back on the bed. Dean squirms and has to snap his head and glare at the Roman whose other hand slid under his legs. The palms on his torso is like a lava sidling up inside him and Dean regrets giving out a pleasurable moan. The Roman’s eyes widen and he leans down to Dean, a hand rubbing Dean’s nipples. The hunter closes his eyes tight with a hitch in his voice. _Fuck this— it can’t be… what the hell is happening to his body?_

Dean avoids the kiss when he feels the man lounge on him, ending the Roman’s mouth on his cheeks but the effect is sensational that it took everything in Dean not to chase after the touch. The Roman seems fully aware of what the drug is doing to Dean, thumbs still rubbing on the man’s buds, watching Dean’s every expression with his eyes glinting darkly. Dean eyes him angrily.

_This dick’s gonna eat him and Dean is angry because he will let him._

Dean feels the man’s other hand slide down on the top of his jeans and his eyes flutters close.

_Yes. No. Fuck! His dick gets out and this is end game._

_Sparks in the air—then lightning._

Almost immediately, the weight on top of Dean disappears like blowing a candle. Dean groans at the loss of contact in spite of himself. He opens his unsteady eyes and looks up the ceiling, unaware of what is to happen next when his body is screaming to be touched.

“Dean?”

The hunter pushes himself clumsily from the bed, hands still tied and eyes blown. He sinks even more at the edge when he frantically gets on his feet upon seeing Castiel. His heart thundered at the appearance of someone so strikingly beautiful. His fingers itch to touch the familiar body he remembers that belonged to him. The same handsome, innocent face in his memory that looked back at him as it broke in pain and pleasure when they ignited fire.

_Pain and pleasure._

A wild rage of emotion surges forward. Suddenly, all he wants to do is to _touch. To possess. To take and take. _A wild drive that sends his body with heat like a molten lava dangerously wanting to come out.

Dean frustratedly growls when he falls on the ground, ass flat. He doesn’t know what happened to the Roman-shit, but all his thoughts focus on Cas—just Cas. His body heats up and sweats like he’s done a marathon. He needs friction. He needs something. _He needs Cas!_

“Dean!” Gentle hands wrap on his shoulder and Dean is pulled up at the edge of the bed facing Castiel. Cas is breathing heavily with eyes squinting as if every movement is taking a toll in his hunched body. Dean stares at his pretty face dumbly.

“Dean—you look—what happened?” Cas’ tone grows sharp like he understands something is wrong but Dean just looks at him, drowning in his ocean blue orbs. Cas for the first time seems to get taken by the intensity but he reaches to Dean’s binding first. It takes a while and Dean’s face is shoved in Castiel’s chest while the angel does the work behind him.

“I woke up with demons surrounding me and you weren’t around… my grace blew up… I think I may have used a lot more than necessary… and then I find you with him…” a dark look passes the angel’s expression. “I’m afraid that’s all of my grace for now. I’m sorry I’m a little late, are you okay, Dean? My grace isn’t enough to heal you I’m really— D-Dean?”

Dean bites on Cas’ grand collarbone, then suckles a red mark there. Cas inhales, but didn’t say anything else until he frees Dean from his ropes. The moment he did, Dean stands in front of him and tackles him on the bed. Cas’ eyes widen when Dean clambers on top of him. Fear doesn’t register in Castiel’s eyes but concern.

“Dean?” he calls when the hunter leans on him, face flush with arousal, eyes lost. He grabs Castiel by the wrists and shoves it all the way up, arms stretching but Castiel says nothing. Beneath them, Dean’s legs trap him too, spreading Castiel’s legs by force till he finds a place to sit between his legs, hard cock licentiously hard and pointing at the angel’s middle.

Dean takes both Cas’ wrists in one hand while the other clumsily unbuckles the angel’s pants. Castiel just lays there, watching the hunter quietly. He doesn’t move even when Dean’s hand leave his wrists to tug his pants down. Cas actually removes his long sleeve on his own having not remembered why it was unbuttoned when he woke up on the ground. Dean’s on him the next second after discarding his boxers, leaving the angel naked on the soft bed. Dean’s on him again, hands possessive on the angel’s wrists as he pushes it on either side of the angel and kisses him roughly. The hunter lowers his hips and grinds their length with excited, if not, too aggressive presses. Cas feels the hands on his wrists tighten and he pulls from the kiss when Dean nips on his neck.

“Dean… I’m not going to run away… but you’re…” Cas moans at Dean grinding their erection harder than expected. He squirms but Dean growls, catching his lips and moving his ass like he wants more than the rubs. He leaves Cas’ mouth wet and swollen then goes on his neck avidly like it’s some center of gravity he just needs to finish biting on. Soon, Castiel is full of marks along the jawline, under his chin then his neck. Castiel pants against Dean’s mouth when it finds him again, hovering above like he doesn’t know where to start and end.

“Dean.” Cas tries again, wriggling his hands but Dean doesn’t let go. Not even when he straddles the angel and with free hand, wraps warm palm around Castiel’s dick. He rubs a thumb at the slit of the head and Cas cries louder when Dean begins to jerk him wildly, his body melting at the sound of the angel’s voice. Cas comes in one long spurt, his semen all over his chest. Dean pins Cas even lower when he leans and rubs their body with the semen, chest to chest, hips to hips then jerks his ass just above his twitching length.

But it isn’t nearly enough. The itch in his skin, the twitch in his hard cock is not yet sated. He needs to feel more.

There’s no warning when Dean lets go of Cas’ red wrists and grabs under his thighs. Cas hitches a breath when his legs get spread apart further and then Dean is pressing the tip of his very hard, very large cock at the base of his rim.

“Dean—wait—” Cas’ only words of hesitation when Dean pushes forward and pops the head of his dick in the dry hole. Cas cries in pain and grabs somewhere in his arms tight. Dean watches in fascination as the angel gulps down his shout, shuts his eyes and clenches his fists on the blankets. Dean feels satisfaction at being at something so tight and continues to shove his entire length all the way to the hilt. Cas gives a whimper, his face red, eyes not opening.

Dean sighs and begins to move roughly. The soft body under him shudders with whining sounds. Then Cas’ whole-body rocks with him. It’s beautiful. It’s captivating the way his lean body just accepts Dean. Like Dean belonged there. He does. And he wants more.

It’s wild and intense and just what Dean’s body needs. He pounds on Cas hard and fucks him deep. He keeps it up relentlessly because his body is still going. Castiel only cries in pleasure and Dean’s sure giving him that when he grinds inside him, feeling elated at the sound of skin slapping to another skin and squelching sounds every time he hits Cas’ prostate.

He takes the angel’s unattended cock and jerks it in the rhythm of his push. Cas’ body arches and it’s insane because the moment he did, Dean comes inside. They both did with the angel’s semen spilling in Dean’s hand. The hunter watches as Cas gives another shuddering breath but Dean’s arousal hasn’t even reached its peak. Leaning down, making Cas body curl as his legs sway in the air, Dean grabs both his wrists again and planted them on either side of the angel.

Cas opens his wet eyes. Dean fucks him harder and hits his magic spot a couple of times with hips grinding. Cas exposed neck is all for his mouth to ravage. He marks him, left and right, the red marks on the white skin stamping his claim. He kisses Cas with hot, open mouth till both their lips are swollen.

It must’ve been an hour or more, but he’s still hard. He’s got Cas on three different positions now, the angel’s body so pliant on his touch. Cass’ ass is a sight to see Dean thinks his knees give away when he makes the first push from the angle. He slaps that rear when he got Cas on his knees, his ass up and welcoming as Dean nails him fast. So soft and firm. Ninth, tenth, Dean cannot count but he likes the position. Pounding and moaning is all he can think of.

Still by the time, he’s got on their eight climax he’s still hard. Dean growls and pushes Cas on his back again, body burning when he crashes their body together, lips automatically kissing Cas.

That’s when the taste of blood makes him frown and he pulls up.

He notices Cas’ bloody lips. Dean stops. Blinking hard like it’s something slowly registering on his head, he traces up to the angel’s close eyes with his cheeks damp and red from streak of dried tears. Immediately, Dean sits up, a hollow feeling dawning on him and replacing the elation he’s felt early on.

“Cas…?” Dean his mind goes blank for a second, then everything crashes on him when he understands what he’s doing. Like a blot in his mind got suddenly wiped clear. _“Shit! Cas!”_ he cups Cas’ cheeks on both his palm gently. Dean’s whole-body shakes.

This can’t be happening, he didn’t just—_no! _

“Cas? Cas—!”

Cas did as he is told, opening his blue eyes swimming in fresh tears. Dean gapes and then looks down the mess he’s done to the sticky semen all over Castiel’s body, the bite marks and hickeys not only present on his neck but all over his shoulders and chest—to the reddening of his thighs where muscles were obviously pinched so tight to his soft cock, dead to Dean’s ministrations.

Then Dean looks down Cas from his well-marked neck, shoulder and chest, down to his abused hole. A groan escapes his lips and he’s shooting off the bed like he’s electrified or something. His frantic tumble doesn’t register him. He just wants to run.

“Dean?”

But Dean is looking anywhere but at Castiel. He doesn’t remember it all, but he knows what he did. There’s enough evidence for him to get shoot at. There’s a painful tightening in his chest that threatens to burst. Dean curses himself as he stumbles to get as far away from Castiel and the bed, because his dick is an asshole fucker which is still standing lively, dangling on his balls shamelessly. Dean turns to the first entrance he sees and disappears there. He finds it a dead end. It’s the bathroom and he splash himself with cold water. As soon as the icy cold seeps on his skin Dean wonders how long it will take to get drowned.

A moment of silence pass, then the shaking begins on his lips. It trembles so suddenly Dean has to clamp his right hand on it. Then shock hits him when he remembers how he forces Cas on the bed, his unclean hands holding the angel down, refusing any resistance. Dean gulps down a heavy lump, but his shoulders shake and his whole-body trembles next that has to do with the hot corners of his eyes.

There’s a wild freezing moment he stops. He’s crying. Dean slides on the floor and pounds the wall with his fists. Again and again till numbness hit him but still not enough to overshadow what he’s done. He chokes, wanting to puke. He wants to bang his head and make himself collapse—forget everything.

He raped Cas. He fucking raped his best friend. The picture of him and Cas together he’s been silently wishing in the future, if there was any of it, shatters right before him, leaving Dean as the broken man he already is. Cas will hate him.

Dread comes back to haunt him, surging like a dam cracking to drown him. Dean wants to disappear. Maybe he should. He should not have gone there in the first place. It was a mistake. He never ended up saving Cas. He’s the monster at the end of Cas’ story. How is he going to face Cas again? What’s going to happen to them now?

Dean chokes and keeps his mouth clamp despite the tears. He curls on himself, not wanting to see any daylights. He doesn’t deserve it, like he doesn’t deserve Cas. He hates himself, so much hate it’s making his head hurt, his chest to heave and his body to just stay dead.

He wants dead.

“Dean?”

The hunter whips around. Blue eyes—he can’t even fucking look at those eyes anymore. Dean pushes himself away from the wall and attempted to walk pass the angel but Castiel almost throws himself at Dean. Strong arms wrap around him. Dean jerks away from Cas’ touch but the angel is holding him still.

“Let me go.” Dean growls, anger rising inside him.

“I won’t.”

_“I said let go!” _

_“No.”_

Dean grabs Cas shoulder and tries to shove him away. He succeeded an inch much to his surprise in one single pry of the angel’s hands. That’s when Dean realizes Cas is still weak. But despite the misgiving, Castiel stubbornly clutches on his waist. Chest to chest and barely an inch from each other, Dean stifles a moan at Cas’ bleeding lip and shakes his head. The angel has the courtesy to wrap his waist down with the bed’ blanket, dragging it on his wake at the floor.

“Let me go, Cas!” Dean says desperately, clutching on the cold limbs of the angel with tears blinding his sight.

“Dean.”

“_Let go!”_

“I won’t. I can’t. Please don’t make me.”

It’s the plea in his voice that has Dean gulping his panic down. He finds it in him to look at his friend with every muscle in his body wanting to flee. Cas is looking at him with labored breaths. There are dark circles under Cas’ eyes and his cheeks are still pale and this more than anything has Dean simmering down. Not that it did any good to his declining morale and increasing self-loath.

_He raped Cas._

“Cas…” he moans, finally sinking down the floor on his knees. He can only look at Cas’ dry, bleeding lip. “Cas, I’m…”

“It’s okay, Dean. It’s not your—”

_“If you tell me this ain’t my fault, I swear I’, bustin out of here and you’ll never see me.”_

Cas bites his already bleeding lip. Dean bows his head in exhaustion, noticing his dick is still hard.

“_Fuck.”_

“Dean.”

“Stop. Just stop, okay? I know what I did—to you—look at you! I…” Dean struggles for words but chokes on and tears just roll down. “I hurt you… I’m… Cas…” he bites his lips, hands trying to push Cas away again. “I don’t think you know what happened here—_I raped you!”_

Cas shakes his head with contorted eyebrows Dean can barely see them from the wrinkles of his eyes.

“Dean—”

_“Don’t fucking tell me I didn’t!”_

“No, Dean— you did. Raped me.”

Dean meets Cas’ eyes with the lump on his throat tightening. He wants to flee but Cas is blocking his way. He wants to say more but Cas is holding his gaze with a threat for him to argue.

“It’s okay.” Cas amends quietly. Dean’s mind thunders.

“It’s not okay! Nothing here is okay! Getting raped by your friend is not okay! Goddammit, Cas! Don’t act like it’s nothing!”

“I am not.” Castiel struggles for a moment to find his words, “I I—know it must be difficult for you Dean, but this? This is nothing to me. I simply do not care of what happens to me—if it means saving you, Dean, I—I am an angel. This vessel heals—in fact—” Like a match has been lit Castiel snaps his fingers and all the red spots and marks, even the bruise on his lips and wrists disappears. Dean’s eyes widen as the blue-eyed angel gives him a hard look. “Do you see? It’s nothing. I’m sorry it came to this. Please don’t go.”

The calmness in his voice and the way he pleads all sent wrong signals. Dean hesitates but his breathing is still hard. After a moment of silence, the hunter blinks back tears. Why is Cas so good to him… why is Cas so kind… he should be punching Dean! Should be smiting him. But it’s clear as daylight Castiel has no intention whatsoever. Dean wished he would.

Soon the tremor in his body returns at speed and he is wrapping his arms around the angel.

“Cas…” his voice breaks. He wants to leave his body. Wants so bad to be someone else he wouldn’t hate. “Cas… what do I do, Cas…?”

“Just stay with me.”

“I can’t…”

The hand on his wrist tightens its hold.

“Please. Dean. I knew something was wrong and I sensed that you needed it… but my curiosity got the better of me and without thinking of it, I… was careless. Because I wanted to help. I thought I was helping you. _I helped you on my own. _This is on me too.”

“Don’t play that on me, Cas! What you think you did is different from what I’d done! _Stop taking my responsibility!”_

“Your responsibility doesn’t answer for me!” Cas voice is heated, his cheeks almost reddening but his grip on Dean remains tight. “What you did—what I’ve accepted—_is it bad for me to take them when I know it’s you, Dean? _Stop blaming yourself. We’re both in this! I accept everything!”

_“Why!? Why are you doing this to me, Cas!”_

There isn’t an immediate answer as Castiel only gives Dean a squint of confusion then—

“You really don’t know?” it’s almost a growl. Dean blinks, feeling dry. No, he doesn’t. But when Cas walks to him slowly, reach for his jaw and push his lips on him, Dean thinks stars just burst out of the sky that needed no further explaining.

Kiss—they are kissing. Castiel, who he just done the most awful thing he can do— is kissing him fully, noisily, breathlessly with nips and bites to goad him to respond from his initial shock. Dean does not. He simply stares at the angel when Cas pulls back wide eyed.

“Don’t you want me, Dean?” comes the unexpected question, his eyes must be stinging with the way the corner of his eyes reddens. “Do you hate me now?”

“Cas… I can’t.” the hunter steps back.

The moment he did, the light in Castiel’s eyes disappear and from there Dean sees a real broken angel ripped off his wings and heart. It’s not like what he saw in Cas after raping him—no it is far worse. Like Cas just died.

It was too much. Dean gets back to the cold space he just left and cups the angel’s face with both palms, lips crushing to Castiel and rekindling the fire he put out. Castiel readily catches on and kisses back. It’s exhilarating. Their kiss is rendering them senseless, mouth moving, nipping and suckling on each soft spot. Tongue colliding, sliding in and tasting deep inside. Hot stream of tears run down Dean’s cheeks again but Cas’ wet lips kiss them away. It’s difficult to breathe, but Castiel is giving him air.

Castiel is giving him everything like always, and Dean’s just taking. Why does Cas let him?

The bitter-sweet kiss tells him everything. Castiel wants him. Dean does too but—

“Dean…” comes Castiel’s heavy voice when he pulls but Dean is filling his mouth again with his tongue. There’s another wet exchange, each lip swollen when Cas pulls away again and looks Dean in the eyes, “What do you want me to do so you’d believe me? Believe this?”

Dean inhales and wipes the dampness off his cheeks. His head is aching now and he just wants to collapse but Cas is pulling him, desperate not to let go. What does he want from Cas?

Easy, _he wants Cas._

But who the hell is he kidding? He’s Dean Winchester—_ who’d want a bastard like him?_

Cas does though. Very much.

The way Cas is waiting for his response may as well be like waiting for a death sentence. Waiting for something unfair and something Dean promised himself he does not deserve. Cas is smart enough to realize he’ll be bargaining more than he can deal with by rejecting him. But he isn’t. Why?

“I don’t know, Cas… you… I raped you.” He reminds him like the angel just forgot.

“It’s not without consent. I was in full capacity to stop you.”

“That’s not how I saw it.”

“You were just rough… you can just be gentle next time.”

In spite of himself, Dean finds himself laughing and nearly choking. Castiel runs his right hand on his neck, caressing his throat with his thumb. Dean blinks at him breathlessly.

“Y-you think there’s a next time?”

Cas’ jaw clenches, eyes serious. “I’m not letting you go.”

Guilt punches the air out of Dean and he’s wiggling away from Cas— a terrible feeling is creeping up on his skin, telling him it isn’t supposed to be right—no one is supposed to forgive him—Cas isn’t supposed to forgive him.

Except Cas means what he said and keeps a strong hold on the man’s waist.

“Why are you fighting this, Dean?” he says sadly, embracing Dean closely till the hunter relaxes on his touch. “Why do you always think you don’t deserve to be saved? I did it once, I’ll do it all over again. I won’t let you hurt yourself anymore… I know you want me…I want you, I belong beside you… but why do you keep pushing me away? I don’t understand. You want me, don’t you?”

“Cas…” Dean finds his voice, gulping hard. In lights of things, it clicked. “Yeah, I do.”

Cas’s arms go around his waist. “Then don’t leave me, Dean.”

_“You don’t leave me.”_ Dean finally raises both hands behind Cas’ head, carding it to his messy hair and pulls him in with eyes brimming with tears. He kisses Cas’ ears and embraces him. He doesn’t deserve Cas, but Cas… he doesn’t. But he’ll risk it, because Castiel is readily doing so. And Dean’s no coward.

Castiel instead pulls a little to look him in the eyes, his clammy hands cupping Dean’s cheeks and the hunter leans on his touch.

“Dean.”

That’s all he needs to say and Dean allows himself to get pulled from the room leading to the soft bed. Neither seems to mind the chaotic events that transpired on the same bed, but Cas seems determined to push it away from Dean’s mind. Cas pushes him on the bed before crawling beside him with arms quick to pull him close. Dean does the same. It’s intimate as it should be, but Dean is still uncomfortable. It’s only Castiel’s warmth on his side that’s keeping him from running out of the room. But closing his eyes is impossible without seeing Castiel’s wrecked body beneath him.

He hisses and bites his lips.

When the tension on his body doesn’t go, Castiel closes the gap with his lips pressing on Dean’s neck. Dean catches the lump in his throat, and feels a mighty shudder escape his body. They lay on the bed quietly and this isn’t even their bed. Dean slightly pulls to take a good look at him. The angel looks mildly calm. His eyebrows are still contracted and his cheeks are flush, but Cas looks calm. Dean thinks he understands why the angel is adamant to keep him. They’re best friends and Castiel’s instinct has always been to help him. Dean knows he doesn’t want to take advantage of that, yet here they are. Doubt fills him. He’s taken everything from Cas now and yet the angel is still here beside him, not hating him nor cursing him away. Had he done that to anyone—but Cas isn’t just anyone.

He’s Cas. Dean’s Cas and he hurt him—but Cas just takes it like he always does. Dean reminds himself how he doesn’t deserve this angel, this beautiful god-given gift whom he has hurt time and again. And in the future might still do—

The painful truth too, is that he loves Castiel so much more for it. The way he wants Cas to opens his eyes, look into his eyes and tell him how he loves him too. It’s ironic, but he wants to heart it and at the same time not. Castiel deserves so much better than this.

As if sensing his intense gaze, Castiel opens his eyes and meets his eyes. Then he pulls Dean close. Dean shut his mouth to stop any unnecessary sound when their nose touch. Cas breathes next to him it’s a new feeling but it calms Dean. Cas is warm now, almost inviting, but Dean refuses to reach out. He stays his arms crossed on his chest even if its making him uncomfortable. He isn’t touching Cas. No.

Only after half an hour is he able to relax when a subtle voice tells him _it’s okay._

_It’s not, but it’s okay._ Everything here in Rome will be forgotten once they save the world. Even if it isn’t, he will make it okay. He and Cas always ds. He shoves guilt out and make himself feel numb like he always does.

Because Cas is doing the same so maybe all of this really doesn’t matter. All of this is part of saving the world. He and Cas, they’ve always sacrificed themselves for the world, so getting lost along the way… something they’ve been accustomed to is part of the job. A cry of anguish deep inside him makes Dean want to stab something but he numbs himself. How his mind slowly accepts it is insane. How his heart doesn’t only rip him to pieces so he ignores that.

Good thing it’s something he is very good at. When he thinks it’s all part of the job…

Somewhere in his mind, he knows he will regret this when he becomes more himself. He’s used to that too. When everything comes crashing down. That’s when the pain is most lethal. He can put it on hold for a couple of hours so instead of working against Cas, Dean lets himself out of the loop. He thinks he’ll regret that later too.

“Cas,” Dean turns to the angel, knowing neither of them are asleep. He finds Castiel’s long lashes the center of his attention. The calmness of his own voice he doesn’t recognize is also not new to him. “Cas—I…. what are we gonna do now?”

“Same as we always do.” Cas murmurs close. “Save. Just keep saving. The world and ourselves.”

Dean blinks at the sharp outline of the angel’s eyebrows. Dean doesn’t need saving.

Warm hands touch his cheeks and Dean finds himself looking in Castiel’s eyes. In the semi darkness, the blue eyes peers at him, searching. Dean will never forget the first time those eyes fell on him. So full of life and purpose. So intimidating and objective. Right now it’s looking at him the same way but with a touch of gentleness. Like Dean matters when he doesn’t.

“You don’t know how important you are to me, Dean.” Castiel says without prelude.

Dean just blinks at him lazily, droopy eyes making Cas look

“I saw the Roman guy on the floor… did you use your grace, Cas? What about the demons downstairs? Dead?”

The angel nods slightly. “I… I think I heard you call for me. I just snapped and you weren’t there, I just lost it, Dean. You were in danger.”

Dean nods, still trying to push the horror of Cas’ body forcefully under him. His lower belly is still warm and despite their closeness, Dean has made a wall between their hips. His groin is pretty much alive. Lying here with Castiel is testing his urges. But he knows he will never do it again.

“You idiot.”

“They were about to take me against my will or have someone do it just to defile an ange.” Cas notes while Dean’s eyes widen. “I’d rather it’s you than them. I didn’t appreciate that man on top of you. It’s all wrong.”

Dean’s mind buzzes. “Aren’t we a couple of fucks.”

“It happens.” Cas says solemnly. Quietly. “All we have left is to forgive.”

“But I hurt you.”

“I like the pain if it’s from you.”

“What about me, Cas? You think I enjoyed hurting you? Taking you?” _That way?_

Castiel suddenly wiggles

Cas’ lips parted and there’s pain in his eyes Dean did not expect to see. Rush of air fills Dean when Castiel leans down to him, temple to temple with eyes closed, tip of fingers touching Dean’s jaw line.

“Dean… I…

“I need you safe too, Cas.” Dean mutters, leaning down, lips pressing on Cas’ right cheek. “Stop hurting yourself for me, man…”

Castiel only sighs. Dean feels the weight of time, but after settling his hands-on Cas’ lower back and feeling the heat of the angel’s body did, he manage to find, no matter how restless, sleep.

* * *

Dean wakes up with a grunt and hot seam from his groin. At first, he doesn’t know where he is but the next moment his eyes falls on Castiel’s dark hair under his chin, his arms wrapped about him, he remembers everything like avalanched. He tenses for full minute, fully feeling how hard pressed their bodies are, his morning wood at its peak and pressed between their stomachs.

For another second, he wants to jump out of his skin and only Castiel’s firm hold on his back is keeping him. He doesn’t understand the entanglement of their body that started somewhere and ended somewhere. Only that, Castiel doesn’t seem to want to let go. And his dick is so hard it’s giving a mighty grind now, leaving trails of precum on their stomachs.

“Cas…” he whispers, nudging his nose on the angel’s hair. “Let go a moment?”

“No…” Castiel murmurs sounding annoyed as Dean knows him to be quite grumpy after waking up. He fondly remembers human-Cas who has cursed Dean whenever the hunter busts in his room at 7 am. This feels the same, but quite different. For one, their both naked on the bed and two, Cas acting like human only serves to remind them how weak the angel has become.

What they have between them, he doesn’t understand anymore.

“I won’t be long. Just wanna take a leak, kay?”

He doesn’t understand why he explains it like their husbands but Cas relents after a few hesitation, eyes still tightly shut and Dean admires his appearance when he sits. Waking up to Cas beside him evokes different kind of feeling. But it’s all tugged down by guilt. He slides off he bed on to the floor and then the bathroom.

He gotta take care of his dick on his own.

An hour later and Dean slumps his head on the wall with uneven breaths. The fucktard of a dick is still alive and twitching after the hundred time he has come. _Fuck, what did they make him take to keep his dick so full for the next five days?_ Dean looks don at his joyful buddy and shakes his head feeling elated. It’s been like that even when he slept. Is it going to be like this forever? Not that he minds, but he’ll be needing a different kind of pants and totally different version of explanation. What d’you call this kind of medical condition, anyway?

Like a curse is upon him, he takes his length in his hand again and begins his wrist numbing strokes. He whimpers when after a minute he comes again. He slides on his knees tiredly and curses when he sees the tip of his red cock dance gleefully up at him.

“The fuck?”

“Dean?” comes a concerned voice.

Dean nearly jumps out of his skin when he looks back and finds Cas standing at the threshold with a squint on his kneeling form. He sees Cas blue eyes round in worry and he steps forward, still too pale and weak for Dean’s liking.

“No, Cas! Stay there!”

The angel freezes and Dean raises his knees to hide his erection.

“Dean? What’s wrong?” worry laces on the deep baritone. Dean shoots his friend a look and shakes his head determinedly.

“It’s nothing… how about you? You feelin alright?”

Cas edges forward a little, then sways to the right and holds on the wall for support.

“I am mostly sensible. A little dry but I’ll managed. But Dean… is that?”

“No, not… Uhh…. nothin, just stay out of this— not a good time for you to show up, Cas. What I did to you… it’s enough so let me be, okay?” Dean doesn’t mean to sound rude, but he’s neve felt like himself than now.

He sucks some air because Cas still lingers at the door frowning. Dean bows his head and curses down his happy cock. And no, he tells his member that no angel mouth is going to suck him unless Dean wants to kill himself. He’s had enough angel in him to ask for more.

The thought itself has Dean groaning. Where in _Crowley’s ass_ are these thoughts coming from!?

Silence meets his words and for a second Dean thought Castiel has left. Only to feel firm hands close around his arm and pull him up. Dean groans when he stands up on his weak legs but shuts his mouth at once when he finds Cas so close to him. The angel is frowning and the way he looks Dean from up below with critical eyes has the hunter wanting to find his breath because he has forgotten how to get one.

“Dean?” the way Cas’ voice change from uncertainty to complete charge gives Dean a minute to pant. Cas puts a secure hand on his shoulder which he tries to wriggle away from. No good with contact now. Cas’ frown deepens. “Dean.” He repeats and his voice is sending Dean into a state of haziness. He can’t do this…

“Uh…” Dean shakes his mule of a head, “Uh… I got drugged.”

Castiel is beside him.

“Cas—”

“It’s been almost seven hours and you’re still hard.” It’s more of observation with scrutinizing eyes.

“Tell me about it.” Dean stares challengingly at Cas that ends up helplessly. Cas watches him for a minute, his blue eyes sharp as he reaches a hand on Dean’s chin. For a second, Dean completely freezes and thinks wildly that Cas is so much in his space. His dick reacts when Cas pulls his chin close to his own nose—Dean doesn’t know why his kiss is taking long to plant.

Only to realize Cas is only sniffing on his mouth.

“Dean.” The angel’s urgent voice snaps the half-induced hunter into blinking. He stares longingly at Cas, wondering what they are doing in a small, contained space and not fucking. He shakes the thought away and curses, stepping back from the angel but Cas takes his elbow and leads him outside into the dim light of the room. The sight of the bed makes Dean inhale again and lick his drying lips. Then he curses himself and grumpily turns away as Cas lets him sit down at the edge of the bed.

Cas leans down and sniffs on his mouth again, sending a shiver down the man’s spine.

“Stop that.” He says grouchily, pushing Cas aside.

“I knew it. The taste is familiar when we kissed,” Cas narrows his eyes when Dean flushes in front of him, “But this drug never affects angels… I should have known it’s the Blue lotus.”

“What?”

“The poison they made you drink. Not entirely poison but it’s not harmful on controlled dosage. Most Egyptians use this for religious practice because of its psychoactive effect. It’s an aphrodisiac with mild psychedelic properties which I can clearly sense from you, Dean. How much did they give you?”

Dean grunts and puts both hands on his knees painfully.

“A whole bottle.” He gestures at the

Cas’ eyes flash in concern. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Like you were in any state to know yourself, Mr. Comatose. You have your hands full in healing yourself after what I did.”

“I thank you for your concern, but it doesn’t help with the current situation. You need help.”

“Can you mojo it out?”

Castiel raises a palm on Dean’s cheeks gently but nothing happens. Both of them frown at each other.

“Well, it seems this needs the classical method.” Cas says abruptly and when Dean takes a moment to understand, the angel nods and looks pointedly down the hunter’s cock. Dean reacts.

“Do you hear yourself, Cas? You’re not going to—” but the thought is making his head spin. Castiel with his mouth on his dick. The sinful thought Dean tries to shake away.

“It doesn’t matter—”

“Everything to you doesn’t matter!”

“If it meant helping you—”

_“I don’t want your help, okay!?”_ Dean’s angry voice surprised even him. But he can’t let Cas do what he thinks Castiel is suggesting. It’ll kill him.

“Dean.” Cas deadpans looking grimly at him under his critical eyes. “Even without you forcing me, I would still be the first volunteer when it comes to it. I will not let anyone else touch you.”

The possessiveness in his voice gets Dean grinding his teeth. What is Castiel doing to him?

“Cas…” he says weakly, because his cock is hot and Castiel is being too possessive of it.

“Come to think of it—all of this is just an unfortunate accident. Dean, had you not been drug, do you think you would have done those things to me? I think not. And I still trust you. Do you trust me?”

Eternity pass. Dean nods. His head must still be under the drug because he lets Castiel slide down the floor. Dean spreads his legs to accommodate him and shuts his eyes. Basically, sitting standing on the bathroom wall, naked with his best friend between legs is the craziest thing Dean has imagined, but not far behind.

Dean practically tries to swat Cas hands away from his own dick just at the sound of his voice. Cas is enticing, that is for sure and Dean avoids looking at him at all cost. His damp clothes from all his sweating are sticking on all muscles of his body, his messy hair as if he has just been fucked and god does Dean want Cas to…

_Shit._

The hunter exhales then make a gasping sound when he sees Castiel’s hand reaching to him. Fingers wrap on his length and Dean moans. His head swirls at the contact and he unconsciously thrust in the angel’s palm. Minutes pass but nothing happens. Dean looks down. Cas is gazing at his cock with avid curiosity that makes Dean want to fuck him. Too adorable. But he berates himself and instead focus on Cas’ touch. He takes Cas’ hand, green eyes blown open as he stared at the confused angel.

“Cas?”

“I… I still don’t know how to do this, though…”

In spite of himself, Dean laughs, terrified.

“You sure you want to… you don’t have to, Cas.”

“Believe me. I want to. You’ve been working this since last night Dean, with me and you hardly had any sleep. I refuse to watch you work yourself till you collapse—Dean, this isn’t a drug you can make away on your own. Let me help.”

Dean’s spine wants to jump out. No angel should be allowed to say those words carelessly but then he lets go of Cas wrist and let the angel do his thing. But he still doubts this no matter how good of an idea it is.

“Stop it, Cas. Don’t tire yourself out because of me.”

“Too late.” Cas says firmly. Not batting his eyes, Dean sees Cas look directly down his dick. Oh hell. Oh hell. The hunter tries to shuffle to try and hide anything but his full erection is out for the world to see. Out for Castiel to ponder on. Like it’s some piece of object he is evaluating. Dean just knows Cas enough to know the angel is in a different chapter than he is on the book.

“Uh… will you quit looking at my dick?”

“I’ve seen it many times.” Comes the deadpan response.

“Yeah, well you try having someone ogle at your dick like it’s gonna get dissected any second, let’s see if that gives you comfort.”

Castiel sighs and looks up at the hunter. “What do you want me to do, Dean?”

“I want you to rest and let me finish my business, that’s all there is, Cas.” His mind protested at the response, wanting nothing but to make contact at anything. But Dean believes a wall, a pillow, even the bed mattress will do. Anything but Cas because Cas is not his fuck object. A part of him, the hazy partying drug induced part of him he has been forcefully trying to ignore suddenly sprang up the hope and he wish something dirty out of the angel. He hopes Cas did not see that when the angel peers on his glazed eyes and squints.

“Are you in pain?”

“My dick’s throbbing and you’re still staring. Course I’m in pain.”

“I can really help, Dean.”

“No.” Dean grumbles, looking down at his jolly mate sticking like a sword out of its sheath. “It’s my problem.”

“I don’t see it that way.”

“Hell, Cas, unless you wanna get some sucking, get on your knees or bend. But I swear—”

“Just tell me what to do.” Cas says simply.

Dean startles when Cas crowds towards him. He looks up at Cas, finds him staring too intently for his liking and has to gulp. What is Cas offering? What is… what the fuck is happening?

“Cas…” he warns, feeling the angel edge even closer till Dean is looking right up at those deep blue. Nothing has change in Cas except his tired lids, but his eyes are bright and intent on him.

“Dean, this is a medical procedure you should not be ashamed about.”

“I uh… _what?”_

“You are drugged… you need to get off and I am here to assist you. Whatever complications you may have in your mind doesn’t necessarily erase the fact that you need medical attention. With given time I can try to find an antidote but as it stands, I am still uncertain of where we are. I am sorry I cannot help you with my grace at the moment, but I assure you I can still help you through this, I am able enough. Otherwise you will remain in pain and I can’t have that.”

“Cas, I’m basically thinking of fucking in your mouth and you give me love epitaphs about medicines like Dr. Sexy.” Dean smirks as Cas blinks a little surprise.

“You want to fuck in my mouth? Is that it?”

“Hey—whoaaa!” Dean panics when Cas gets on his knees. The hunter shoves the angel back, hands firmly on Cas’ shoulder. “What the hell, Cas!” but inside him he is screaming _yes, yes, fuck yes!_

Castiel stops to give Dean a narrowed look.

“I’m getting tired of your bullshit, Dean. You say you don’t want me but your eyes tell me otherwise. Which will it be?”

Dean takes a moment to stare at Cas intense eyes and licks his lower lip. Here they are, in some room in Ancient Rome with Dean naked, almost naturally in front of Cas who doesn’t even bat an eyelid at looking at him. But then, of course. Cas has seen him from skin to soul. The thought relaxes his muscle but the fact that they are in a four corner walls, in a bed with five knocked out Romans outside while his body melts with libido surging to every corner of his veins. He gulps back at Cas.

“No… not mouth…” he breathes, still clinging to last sense of reason although his eyes linger on Cas plush lips for a moment. He doesn’t say anything else but he reaches to Cas lower lip and makes up his mind. He shakes his head. “No lips, Cas. Just hands.”

At the back of his mind, he sure hell knows Cas doesn’t care whichever is which. He watches as the angel nods carefully, eyes falling on his dick. It throbs at the attention, but then Cas stands on his feet. Dean grumbles when Cas did because his jolly mate needs another gripping from the angel who raised him from perdition. The thought gives him a shrill until he feels Cas’ hand on his shoulder, pushing him up the bed and making him lie on his back.

_Fuck, are they—_

“Cas?”

Cas’ hand wrapped around his pulsating length and Dean groans in pleasure.

“It’s alright. I know what I’m doing. Just. relax.”

Dean chuckles and it’s weird how he finds the situation so natural. Lying on his back with Cas holding his cock in his capable hands that has both built him and destroyed angels and demons alike. The thought is like a trigger that got him whimpering. Cas’ hands are large and soft. Always powerful and now he is in control of Dean’s pleasure. Dean moans when Cas begins to work his length in succeeding strokes. _Oh yes…_

Dean breathes and looks at Castiel whose face is fixated on his job. Like it’s the most important thing in the world. Something in Dean jolts as he fondly smiles at his angel.

“You think if you look away, you’ll accidently smite little junior?”

Cas looks up mildly confused. “Junior? You have a name for your dick?”

Dean grimaces. “Why? You don’t approve of my—ughh—naming…skill?” he grits his teeth when Cas begins changing his pace. “Dammit, Cas… you doing that on purpose?”

“No. But I did tell you I know what I’m doing.”

“How? Someone taught you or you got on the right porn site?” Did Cas ever wanted to pleasure himself? The lack of response has Dean shooting his eyes open to glance at the angel. Castiel’s hand strokes begins to get really good, but Dean isn’t going to miss the look he sees in Castiel’s face. Cas has pressed his lips looking incredibly smug and dammit—what the hell does that mean?

“Cas? Wanna…ah… shit… sorry… care to share?”

“Share what?”

“That…” Dean grits his teeth, the built-up tension in his body beginning to rise. “That where…you learned… _shit…”_

“I was told around the time I was a human.”

“Wha—?”

But Dean is robbed off any breath when Cas begins to stroke him with speed enough to send him rocking in the angel’s grip. He groans when the tension builds and he fucks in Cas’ hand, moaning dirty curses, his own hand gripping the sheets, messing his body till Cas tightens his hold and releases—just as Dean gives a shuddering breath, eyes shutting close and explodes in Cas hands. His hips continue to fuck in Cas’ hand because the angel hasn’t let go either. Dean heaves breath, melting under Cas’ grip when he opens his eyes to look at the angel.

Cas’ face is literally sticking with his cum.

“Oh, _fuck! Cas—!”_ Dean stumbles to his knees with sheets on his hands and quickly holds the angel still. He wipes the mess on Cas’ face, gulping heavily because he never thought Cas could look so fucking hot with his cum, but he erases the thought quickly and cleans his friend. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, caressing Cas’ cheeks gently.

“It’s quite fine.”

“It’s not polite. If ever anyone…” Dean’s words tumble out and forgotten with the angel looking at him straight in the eye. No, Cas will never… no one will else will do that to Cas. Dean feels a well of increasing anger in the pit of his stomach again.

“Are you okay, Dean? Do you need more?”

“I think I can manage.”

“What’s between your legs doesn’t look it.” Castiel muses, reaching for it but Dean stops him.

“It’s called a dick.”

“Dick thing.” Cas repeats. “Of course, I know it.”

“Someone taught you about dicks?” he stammers, feeling a different kind of molten feeling erupting inside him. He remembers it perfectly like it was only yesterday where the angels have just fallen and Sam needed help and Gadreel came to extend a helping hand only giving out a different name. Cas had just become a human and nearly died of it too. Dean can still remember the rush in his ears when he sees Cas getting stabbed. But it’s not nearly as bad when he had to tell Cas to leave the bunker at Gadreel’s request.

Cas had to be on his own for months and Dean… Dean was an asshole who only checks up on him on occasion. He only knew of Cas’ adventure in the GasN’sip and of Nora…other than that was lost to him. To find Cas has other things kept from him, and this too… Dean crushes his teeth. Castiel feels his mood.

“Dean?”

“What happened?” he demands, ignoring the scream of his body because fuck a very different scream wants to get out of his system.

“With… the teaching? Oh.” Cas blinks and pulls his hand away from Dean. “It wasn’t eventful. I was staying with other homeless people under some bridge with buses around and umm… I had to stay warm so I stepped in the bus and I was hungry. A man came knocking on the glass door and at first, I thought it was an angel but then it’s a regular human. Like I was. He begins asking questions and it was very uncomfortable because I didn’t know half what he meant. Then he asked if I had money. I told him I didn’t. He offered me money in exchange of sexual gratification.”

Dean’s eyes widen. A picture of Cas helpless and alone in the world without any clue of how to live flashes in his mind. The picture that had gutted him time and again the first time he shows Cas out of the door. He knew something like this would happen, had happened.

There are sparks in Dean’s eyes. Castiel blinks at him curiously.

“Dean—?”

“He didn’t—you didn’t?”

Cas shakes his head and Dean lets out an incredibly heavy sigh.

“He demonstrates how to pleasure the groin. I was mildly interested partly because I really had nothing. He was in the middle of stroking himself when well, another knock on the glass door has me turning. This time it’s an angel and… I think the poor man must’ve been so shocked, he ran away without his pants as I fought to save my life. I escaped. And without money.”

Dean reaches out to Cas and embraces him. He tucks Cas inside his arm where Cas always feels in place. He isn’t… he’s never going to send Cas away again. The thought of recent memory of him doing so has Dean pulling away.

“I’m sorry, Cas… I am an ass.” He puts in, referencing mostly to the recent friction that happened between them. Cas shakes his head.

“It’s not your fault, Dean.”

“How long are you going to make yourself believe that?”

“Until I make you believe it.” Cas says firmly. Almost edgily. “But this isn’t about that anymore, Dean. My point is, I can help you. I’m glad you can trust me with something as intimate as this.”

“Still feels weird.” Dean frowns. “You don’t even love me.”

“I do.” Cas argues but at Dean’s raise of eyebrow, he sighs. “Just not the way you think I do.”

Dean rolls his eyes. He wants to ask Cas what kind of love does this—then he remembers he doesn’t get to push Cas for answers. He’s lost the right the moment he took Castiel without consenting no matter how the angel believes it’s nothing. It was not nothing to Dean. Castiel meant something for him. And if Cas is really important the way Dean thinks Cas really is, he will never forgive himself.

He hasn’t.

Dean sits on his legs and looks at his dick still bouncing. He feels different. Scary different. Like he’s doing it again to Cas by letting Cas. Half his mind wants Castiel to, half of him doesn’t. Dean can’t tell anymore. The drug is screwing him.

“I can handle this, Cas. You just rest.”

“I think I have rested enough. I can almost feel my grace. I think I may really be of help. I can even see your soul now, as beautiful and bright as it’s always—” Cas stops. Dean shoots him a look and sees the angel staring wide-eyed somewhere in his chest.

“Cas?”

Without warning, Castiel pushes him on the bed, this time on top of him.

“You plannin’ revenge? I don’t mind.” Dean says quite surprise.

But the angel turns from shell-shock to angry, Dean can sense that. He sees Castiel look at his body with so much indignation before the angel meets his eyes. Fire burns in those blue eyes, a kind of wrath he rarely sees turn to him. Dean shuffles, but he isn’t afraid of Cas. Instead, he places both palms on either side of the angel to hold him. Like Cas will fly off the next moment. Dean meets his eyes squarely.

“What’s wrong?”

“Dean.” Cas’ eyes turn dark. “This mark on your shoulder…”

Dean blinks, and in that instant a fresh image of a handsome god burns in his eyes.

“What about it? You’ve seen it before.”

“No. I’ve only seen your tattoo and that’s it… I’m talking about my mark, Dean!”

“What?” His green eyes flickers to Cas, then leans on his right so he can have a better view of his left shoulder. “The hell are you talking about?”

He can only see the red mark of Castiel’s handprint but it’s obvious the angel is seeing something different the way his eyes burn on Dean’s skin.

“He’s left a mark on you.” Cas says in a quiet deep voice with lightning in his eyes, unexpected possessiveness seizing the angel. Dean shudders when the angel squeezes his biceps, directly above his initial mark like Cas wants to take it away.

“He’s tried to claim you, Dean. _He left a claim on you.”_

_ _


	7. I came, I saw, I conquered

_ ** ** _

_ **Veni vidi visi ** _

_“Dean? Are you awake?”_

Dean has been pretending to be since he felt Cas stir beside him fifteen minutes ago. Frankly, he wants to bolt out of the door. After a good head rest and the effect of the drug wearing off, Dean has a complete detail in his head of what he’s just had Cas do with him—and fuck if his boner is any hint, he can just disappear right there and then.

“Dean?”

“Mmm fine…” Dean pulls a grumble, closing his eyes tight and sighing.

“I found you some dress too, Dean. We need to get out of here soon. I have taken care of the previous owner and locked them in what you’d call _‘cupboard’_, but you can fit a size of human in there after all. Should be calling in differently. I also found decent Roman clothes in the cabinet. And then breakfast for you. I’m sure you’re hungry.”

_You are the meal._ Dean smacks his palms on his face and pushes himself up. _He is so fucked. _The room is as messy as he remembers it, but this time he is alone on the bed. Castiel’s figure emerges from the bathroom already fully clothed.

“It’s that time already?” Dean absentmindedly gathers the hazy rumples of blankets, not meeting Cas’ eyes.

“We came here around morning… we’ve been here for half a day. Are you okay now?”

Dean doesn’t answer as Cas returns briefly and hands Dean drops Roman clothes on his lap.

“I’d rather just walk around naked than be seen in this.”

“You’re not.” Cas’ growl makes Dean look up. He finds Castiel frowning at him from the entry way.

Dean rubs his eyes when the intensity got the better of him. Picking a garment like it’s a teenage boy’s clothes, he holds it to his face. “Why bother with modesty if all this shit is doing is to only make eyes water?”

“That’s just it. Modesty.”

Dean gazes up a Cas hesitatingly, taking him in again. The angel is now wearing a white one shouldered tunic with black string resting around his hipbone. He’s also wearing straw sandals that looks good around the binding. From a point of view, Cas does looks like an angel with this, only a halo, a harp and wings and he can already ascend in heaven. He is also really devastatingly handsome with strong jaw and tall nose, stubble on his chin at five o’clock shadow.

His pectorals are shaped much underneath the thin garment, his broad shoulder muscles exposed on the sleeveless cut. He looks very ripped.

Dean gulps as he remembers what that tastes like. It’s insane but all he can remember now is Cas taste and Cas’ touch. Must be the drug still talking.

“Cas, I uh—”

Castiel tilts his head in a manner that has Dean staring. Why does Cas have to be so goddamn attractive when he does that? That mess of a hair should be tied around somewhere. Dean pulls his eyes down the green white linen on his hands and decides to throw his legs at the edge of the bed to stand up. Doing so exposed his limp cock and he’s sliding back on the covers, embarrassed.

“Dean? You okay? The drug has worn off, right?” Cas has taken a step towards him in worry but Dean waves him away. He flushes at the attention and mumbles out word per word after snatching his own too thin tunic and slipping it on him. He doesn’t mind the short length that barely covered his ass, didn’t mind that half his collar bone is an exhibit for others to see but under Cas’ scrutiny, he might just melt on the spot.

Then in his sober state it occurred to him—_he is fantasizing about his friend._ Not that Dean hadn’t done so before, but right now, here, it feels malicious. His lips are tight together, his tongue sealed at the roof of his mouth. He raped Cas and let the angel blow him when he knew Cas is too good to deny him anything— now he wakes up with Castiel when Dean thinks the angel should be running from him—what the hell is going on! Anger bubbles in his stomach. He has to push Cas away—

He is so deep in his thought, the crease on his forehead almost leaving permanent marks, that he did not even notice Castiel walk up in front of him. The angel raises delicate fingers middle and flicks it on his forehead.

“Ow!”

“You’re overthinking.” Cas says grouchily, blue eyes fiery.

“You would too if you think about what happened last night—” Dean hesitates.

Cas stands in front of him thoughtfully. “I thought we made a clear on that. Why are you bringing it up again, Dean?” there’s an honest frown on his face that suggests he’s getting tired of the topic. _Human topics._ Dean blinks at him.

“Cas, we—”

“We did. Very generously too. I just want you to know I’m okay with everything but if you still think there’s a need to go over it like you humans usually do then okay. But will you eat first? I’ll listen to you while you do. You need your energy back, Dean.”

“Why are you suddenly acting like my caretaker?”

“Because Sam’s not here and in your brother’s own words— _it’s my turn to fuss_.”

“You’re not fussing, you’re acting like him.”

“And I think that’s a compliment.”

Dean stares at the angel. Remembering Sam has a different effect on Dean. It entails the end of their present world and his brother alone on another time. Suddenly, things between him and Cas squares. They have a job to do and idle chat will not get them anywhere. But first—

“Yeah, uh…. thanks.” he clears his throat, pulling the clothes on his bed. “You sure you’re okay, Cas? Cause… yeah, it’s all cool if you’re cool with it.”

Cas narrows his eyes.

“I am, Dean. Don’t worry. But I suggest we start moving. I can’t keep making the owner of this house fall asleep after the six time. I’ve already erased their memory of the demon possession but it’s dangerous to linger knowing this is a demon’s lair. Especially with you being…” his voice trails and there’s radiating menace in them that Dean notices. He understands why Cas is a bit angry and distant.

Someone put a claim on Dean. With Cas’ angel mojo back, he can see clearly what Dean could not. It makes the hunter look down his chest for a moment where the anti-possession tattoo lies covered by the one-shoulder-top he wears. He can’t see the difference, but Castiel says the symbol has been changed. Nothing in Dean’s eyes seems different. Looking up, he notices Castiel has followed his eyes and is looking pretty severe again. After a moment, the angel indicates the door before leaving.

Dean stands up to press on the clean green tunic with golden bands for belt. Dean is sure he is still crimson with all blur thoughts coming in his head after last night. He just follows Cas moving around the room feeling tense. Dean wouldn’t blame him if Cas had decided to ignore him because of the physical pain he’s caused… but to be angry because Dean got marked by another supernatural being, Castiel doesn’t seem to take that lightly.

Well, getting owned by another crazy-ass-bitch god seems daunting. But Castiel getting obviously riled up and jealous over it is sending Dean’s head in specter. He thinks about it in amusement.

_So, Cas is possessive of him. What of it?_

Dean steps out to the landing only to be met by a long blade pointing his way. Startled, he looks up to find three demons all wearing tunics of different style pointing blades in his direction. Castiel is with them already with a blade pointing in his neck. Cas’ eyes are narrowed into slits, like he’s trying to calculate their means of escape. But he has just only healed—right after he took care of what Dean did the whole night—

“Cas!” Dean tries to step but a hand grabs his bare shoulder and holds him back. That’s when the angel looks at him and shakes his head in warning. Dean heeds his silent command.

The demons spoke in Latin with their eyes on Cas. Dean tenses and he tries to shove the hand holding him. He would have gone of his knife or his glass blade but it won’t come out. To his surprise, the demons are also throwing him looks—but it’s not the kind of disgust they throw Cas.

Instead, they throw him looks of apprehension like how demons in the 21st century do because they know he’s Dean Winchester. But here? He’s nothing. But something about him is making the demons glance at each other. Dean casts them a look, then turns to Castiel who has eyes on him with very thin lips. Lips he’d like to kiss again if possible.

But Cas is pissed so… _not a good sign at all._

Roughly, they start getting pushed out into the sunlight that greets Dean like a smile. Fuck, he’s forgotten how intense sunlight feels like. But before he could bask in it further, a sack gets pulled on his head. He is thrown next to Cas and the angel presses on his back, assuring him. Dean jumps on the other side like he’s electrified. He doesn’t know what’s happening but he settles himself opposite where he thinks Castiel is sitting.

“Dean?” comes the question.

“Here.” Dean mumbles. There’s no word from the angel.

Wondering why Castiel is letting them get taken, Dean awaits the next doom that follows.

* * *

_Slave market. _That’s where they end.

It’s funny how quick things went quickly out of hand. One minute they are shoved at the back of a closed-off wagon that smelled strongly of horse manure, the next second they are being pushed at the back of a large tent and getting presented to a burly man with dark curly hairs that runs to his sideburn and beard he looks like a giant Peter Jackson. Maybe he is Peter Jackson, Dean can’t tell when his head gets free from the sack. The burly man is sitting behind a wooden table with lots of pads of ancient money, Dean supposes. They are being traded.

When he and Cas are dragged in front of him, bargain seems to be made. Dean doesn’t like the burly man’s way of checking out Cas, but when no indecent attempt happens, the two of them are pulled inside further, until they are pushed in a room where two young Romans in loose tunic are waiting. Dean reacts when they approach, but Cas behind him shakes his head quietly. Dean throws him incredulous look but lets the Roman reach them and—what the hell they get stark naked again. He throws another frown at Cas wanting to knock the Roman senseless, but the angel’s inattention worried Dean.

Next thing you know, here he is with Cas under the mid-afternoon sun, standing in the middle of a large crowd atop a ring with nothing save a small piece of clothing hiding their front and ass and getting ogled at by a crowd of leering _men._ The sunlight shoot burns in their bare skin as they wear nothing but a loincloth that Dean couldn’t believe he pulled on himself. He and Cas were sent to different tents and came out this way. If he isn’t so worried about Cas by then, he’d have walk out of the tent naked. It’s much more dignified than a rag covering his nether regions.

Cas stands beside him with arms tied too, facing the sun with that familiar wrinkle in his eyes. Dean overlooks the crowd of bidders, because that can only be it—a slave market where they stand in the middle of horny men wanting to get hands on their product. Dean knows of slavery in Ancient times. That’s how most of their legendary supernatural problems come from—vengeful spirits of old slaves. Yet, he can’t believe he’s spent a whole day of his time in Ancient Rome getting attacked and marked by gods, drugged, taking Cas… and then getting sold as a slave. If anything is weird here, it’s the fact that Cas, angel of his lord, isn’t doing anything at all.

It worries Dean at the beginning. But when Cas continued to look both indifferent to his surroundings like he chose to be there himself, Dean knew there’s a catch. No angel would deliberately let demons catch him, right?

Dean sighs and leans towards the angel. “Cas, be honest. What are we doing?”

“I am observing. You are baiting.”

“Oh?” Dean thinks with lips quirking. “You gotta be more specific on the target or I might give signal to everyone and get em all in the bag.” Cas gives him a withering look. Dean smirks. “Who are we baiting?”

“The pagan god who had the audacity to claim you when you’re already taken.”

“Are we talking about that mark you found?”

“Yes.” Cas looks away with clenched jaw. Dean watches him.

“Look, Cas. I don’t really know what happened, alright? Why are you angry with me? You can’t just blame me for something I didn’t even get—the dude just came at me—”

“I don’t blame you for that, Dean.” Cas looks towards the sun again, eyes narrowing. “Frankly, I do not blame him for noticing you either. You are rather very special.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No.” Dean looks around in nothing in particular. “I’m just your average Joe who’s tryin to survive every fucking day cause these gods think they can control us. So if you find him, Cas, you don’t get to finish him. He’ll answer to me.”

“I don’t think that’s necessary. He’s not touching you again.”

Dean whips his head to the angel with a grin. “Are you jealous? You sound jealous.”

Castiel suddenly leans on his shoulder. Dean squares his jaw, his face closing as he takes a step back. He berates himself for easily getting Cas too close.

Castiel falls silent and the way his eyes narrow in to a sulk is just too endearing it makes Dean grin broadly. It disappears when he reminds himself he’s not supposed to flirt with Cas and ends up giving himself a hopeful idea. There’s a sudden tug on the hunter’s feet that surprised him. Down the stage, there’s an odd Roman pointing up at him. He says one word he couldn’t make out. Castiel is pressing on Dean’s shoulder the next second the angel realizes something is holding Dean. But the angel relaxes when he sees Dean is in no immediate danger.

“What is he saying?” asks the hunter.

Cas squints at him. “Oh, I apologize, Dean. I forgot you can’t understand—”

“Yeah, yeah, good for you. What’s the old man saying?”

“_Sun and fire.”_ Cas says after a pause. Dean raises eyebrows at the man who’s still pointing on his chest. Straight to his tattoo. Dean eyes Castiel who’s still watching the stranger, before meeting Dean’s eyes, then looking down his tattoo. Obvious dislike easily covers the blue eyes and Dean’s sure Cas can see the new mark there. Castiel looks away. Dean clears his throat.

“Why’s he pointing at it? Can he see the mark you see?”

“No. But he knows the pentacle of the anti-possession tattoo. He’s seen it before.”

“Meaning what?” Dean raises an eyebrow at Cas’ direction. “He knows a Jewish symbol supposed to be around medieval period? What period are we in? He a time traveler or something?”

“No.” Cas glances at Dean quietly. “But the symbol actually predates the medieval period unto the first century, Ancient Greece. We are currently in the first common era of Nero’s reign. And no, he’s a retired Roman soldier who had seen other country during his prime.”

“Huh.” Dean’s sharp eyes turn to the angel. _“We are in Nero’s reign? That psycho who burnt Rome down? That Nero?”_

“Yes?” Cas arches an eyebrow while Dean blinks stupidly at him. “You know about him?”

“I read, believe it or not—” Dean becomes defensive because he does. He’s read most stories of fires that changed history wanting to see connections to Supernatural. Rome burning is one of them. Castiel’s easy smile stops him explaining.

“I believe it. I never doubted how smart you are, Dean.”

The hunter flushes. “Anyway, what are the chances we get involved with him?”

“Not part of the plan at all.” Cas sighs. “I hoped getting involved with this god we’re baiting isn’t either but since he’s put where his hands don’t belong, it seems futile attempt to keep our heads down now. It’s inevitable to meet him.”

There’s a pause. The sun is too bright. Then a beat.

“You’re not talking about Nero, are you?” Dean notes heavily.

“No. I’m not.”

“Cas, you didn’t drink a liquor store in the demon’s lair, did you?”

“Of course not.”

“Oh. I thought you must be drunk to even think you can use me as bait to lure out a pagan god, but I guess you’re too sober to even consider it.” Sarcasm hits the spot but Castiel still does not answer. Dean grinds his teeth. “We don’t even know the god!”

“Oh, I know him alright.” Cas’ eyes darkened.

“Really?” Dean rolls his eyes. “And you didn’t even bother telling me? Who was it?” he demands.

“I need to touch you if I’m going to tell you.” Castiel gives him a furtive look. Dean arches an eyebrow. So Cas noticed that Dean’s avoiding any contact and is… mad about it?

“What are you waiting for?”

Cas purses his lips and undid the ropes.

“Well then.” He helps Dean with his bonds while the Romans in front of them starts shouting something funny in their language, but Cas and Dean are already kicking people out of the way. Castiel is not to be messed with. The moment he steps down the wooden ladder, he takes with him five Romans in one swift of his hands. Dean watches as the angel does so with eyes darting from the Romans to the angel.

When it’s obvious the Romans are panicking because of Castiel’s unusual strength, Dean clasps a hand behind the angel’s elbow and pulls him around the corner. He sees the two young Roman who had undressed them, run to them to take his and Cas clothes’ back.

Then they run.

“I appreciate the angel mojo, Cas.” Dean says, running with bowlegs faster than it looks—

“But?” Cas sounds exasperated.

“Stop showing these men your power. It gives them ideas. Ever heard of witches getting burned?”

“I don’t burn. I won’t stop either. This is pointless, Dean. Keep running or I will carry you.”

“Fine. Any ideas where we’re going?” Dean asks distractedly because Cas just gave him a fucking bridal-carry idea. Besides, running on without direction, he may as well reach the end of the earth at how fast they are going.

_“Forum Romanum.”_ Castiel replies dryly. “If we’re hunting someone, it’s the place we best need to be in Ancient Rome.”

* * *

Dusk light meets their eyes, the sky hue of indigo and dark blue. Dean feels his stomach growl. It’s been a good three hours after their escape. An hour spent trying to put as much distance between them and the slave traders who had no match to Dean and Cas’ sprint. Another hour after reaching the mouth of the city while arguing about the most mundane things as clothes and another hour trying to find food. They’ve kept themselves well-hidden by walking along the dark alleys no one would dare slip into unless you’re very drunk, very horny, very bad person or you’re with an angel. Dean thinks he is very horny at the moment, and that’s because Cas has flashed him his naked frontal when they argue about article of clothing. He and Cas may have done it but on sober mode, Dean is still shy. Yes, everything about Cas makes his mouth water—who wouldn’t with that perfect combo of all things perfect—the hair, the eyes, the full lips—Cas is an embodiment of sin when naked—not that Dean hasn’t noticed before.

In the end, Cas is able to locate a hiding spot next to another tall building just a few walks from the market where he intends to get refreshments. He offers to get meal but Dean isn’t at all feeling hungry. And when Dean says that, it raises concerns.

_“You have to eat something.” _Cas glowers.

“I’m telling you, it’s fine. It’s not the longest I fasted.”

“You don’t have to do it when I’m around. I want you in good shape, Dean. We can’t afford losing strength when we’re here. It’s too dangerous and you’re still recovering from the drug’s effect—”

“You already did the healing, Cas.”

“Not enough touching.” Castiel leads them out of narrow alley unto the seeping darkness in the sky. Dean looks up automatically but the angel doesn’t meet his eyes. Dean looks at the declining light.

“Weird for the sun… to just disappear again, huh?” he looks at the end of the alley where much brightness is coming from like everything’s on fire. But people are gleefully shouting merrily, it couldn’t be anything bad.

Castiel stands beside him not speaking. He is still annoyed and Dean gets to feel the radiating warmth of the angel’s skin even when they’re not touching. Night’s about to fall and he and Cas are hiding in the shadows. They both agree that Ancient Rome is just full of demons so they need to be careful. But soon it’s dark and they need a place to sleep. If they can sleep. It gives Dean jitters thinking about being alone with Cas again in a room.

There’s a reason Dean’s not hungry and that’s because his mind is occupied by certain things when he and Cas are alone once more. How will they get a room in this place anyway? It’s not like Dean can have credit cards to scam. He can maybe pick-pocket or two, but he’s left that business when he’s nine years old when he wanted a decent meal for Sam. Cas won’t want to sleep of course, but after their intimacy, does Cas something? Because Dean can’t give it.

At least, he hopes he can last the temptation.

He looks meaningfully at Castiel whose eyes are intent on the bright opening leading to the lively market. Dean is behind him but Cas is like light itself with the way his skin glows in the shadows. It must be the angel grace. Dean is glad Cas is getting is grace back.

He is also glad he is oblivious to Dean’s gaze.

He licks his lips and wipes a wet palm on his mouth, heart pounding.

“So uhhh…. you know where to start?” he gives Cas a look, heart still hammering.

“Out there.” Cas points and the two emerges out of the alley to the bustling street of life.

It’s a small street of houses and apartments leading to the public market. Cas points in the direction everyone’s lining to. Dean nods and brushes shoulder with the angel. He quickly steps aside again. Castiel gives him an odd look. Dean nods and he walks side by side with Cas, still careful on shoving himself down the angel without complete jumping away. Soon a large gap is between them. Cas lost patience and glares at him. Dean amends by quickly falling on the step beside him.

Cas sighs.

“Think nothing of it, Dean. We have other purpose here.” Castiel leaves him standing on the spot looking slightly stupid. Dean stares as he watch the angel go. Think nothing of what? Of Dean’s fail attempts to dissuade his body from prowling at Cas? Or how stupid he looks with his body and brains wanting different things at once.

He feels a cold rush on his legs and groans when he remembers his attire. Green cloth hanging on their shoulder enough to cover their middle and front pack and just above the knee.

_Romans and country men ogle at his legs._

“Dean.” Cas calls in his usual baritone that send tingles in the hunter’s stomach.

_Shit._

Dean tries to follow as he finds them walking casually with almost everyone wearing the same dragged tunics, loin cloths, sandal shoes with broad arms and chest almost showing. Dean looks up as Cas begins moving and notices the darkness of the sky above. The hunter can’t believe it’s been two days since they arrived here. How could they waste so much time?

What about Sam? Will Gabriel have enough grace to come back around? He and Cas hasn’t discussed that yet beyond what’s happening at them now. He realizes he hasn’t been focused. How could he? At the darkness of the sky, their first night in Ancient Rome pours in Dean’s mind like a weak faucet that needs bad plumbing.

_Can’t believe he let Cas touch him._ The weird thing is, Cas doesn’t seem to mind. For Castiel, seeing and touching his dick must’ve felt like squeezing a wiggling fish. The thought amused Dean and his discomfort is lessened. Okay. Think of fish with large eyes then. The thought made him chuckle.

By the time they reach the busy road, Dean is already steps behind Cas. The angel has to wait for him at the entrance of what looked like a public market, Cas peering at the hunter with curious blue eyes. Guiltily, Dean lessens the gap. Castiel doesn’t move from his position.

“Do we have a problem?” Cas asks in resignation. “You’ve been acting weird, Dean.”

Dean brings squares his shoulders. “Uh, in case you haven’t noticed, we haven’t really talk about any plan? We’re stuck in Ancient Rome, Cas… We don’t even know if Gabriel can return… of course I’ll be weird.” He clears his throat at the obtrusive lie when his eyes fall on Cas’ lips.

“You should have thought about that before you ask Gabriel to get you here.”

“And leave you alone while we bite our nails in the Bunker, then wait a thousand years before the you of my time appears in front of me—that’s what you’re thinking?”

“No, I didn’t think that.”

“Ah, well, pal that’s how time travel works. Just sayin. But really. Am I gonna get old and die here? Do we have a chance of bringing back the light to Sam? Can we tell this Prometheus to bring it to us after years—but dude, the guy lost his memory and died even before any of this began—this is—”

“Dean.” Castiel looks him in the eyes, calm. “Trust me. I have a plan and you getting stuck here is not part of it. Nothing will happen to you and we will get you back to Sam. I promise.”

Dean stares at the angel and couldn’t help nodding. He notices Cas looks up from a long staring contest, and then to his surrounding with a wary look.

“We should hurry to the center of this town… This time and era…” he cast a look around to the inviting light and merriment that meet their eyes in the market. Dean inhales the satisfying smell of food. Stepping in the arching gates, their eyes are met with bright lights are coming from the fiery flames of torches on each side of the busy market street. They fill the streets corners in straight alignment, lighting the entire place with warmth and merriment. Candles burn bright on top of tables and windows of mason buildings of the bazaar, creating a vivid effect of jollity and life among the citizens. Stalls, tents, tables with food and wine could are standing in corners, making Dean’s eyes widen at the assortment he nearly tumbles forward when his toe caught on uneven pavement.

“What’s going on out there?” Dean asks, scratching his toe. There’s a reason he doesn’t just wear sandals in the open, his angry toe reminds him.

Cas slides his eyes in the corner looking contemplative for a moment. Then he narrows his eyes

“Just as I thought. _Saturnalia.”_

“No, it isn’t.” Dean freezes much to his own surprise.

“Why?” Cas throws him a look.

“You just said _Saturnalia.”_

“Yes and…?”

“The _Saturnalia? _Like the pagan celebration where everyone gets everything they want, whenever they want and everything’s free?” his eyes light up in contrast to Castiel tilting his head.

“Um… that’s an odd way of phrasing it, but yes, I believe that is Saturnalia. A winter solace festival of what your time now avidly calls ‘Christmas.’”

Dean grins. “If people give out free food then yeah, I’m down for any kind of festival.”

“Of course. But Christmas is quite different than you think in this era...” Cas looks at him suspiciously. “Why are you acting weird, Dean?”

Dean can’t help his broad smile. “Because Saturnalia_ means orgies!”_

He didn’t mean to sound gleeful. Castiel marginally sighs.

“I was afraid of that. Smart man like you, Dean, of course you know history. Your purpose for the interest however, I do not need to know. Yes, Dean, although this festival is the beginning of your human holiday, Christmas in Ancient Rome is nothing in comparison to your time. I remember now why heaven looked down on Rome during this holiday and it’s not just because they worship a pagan god. It’s because of human debaucheries, immoralities and display of public intercourses. I remember how appalled most angels were. We never looked back until messengers were sent to turn this place anew. It was disturbing time.”

“What the hell are you talking about Christmas orgies and disturbing time in the same sentence about? Its _humans being humans with holidays we’re all sorry didn’t make the future!”_

The angel pauses. He gives Dean a calculating look before slowly putting words down. “So you’re not offended about Christmas being a religious lie?”

“Hey, I am my own religion before you came in. Before that, me and Sammy only ever celebrated Christmas because we thought it was our last time together.”

“Typical Winchesters.” Cas half smiles.

“Yeah, well, we never really had the luxury coz you know— never actually had a commoner’s life to even appreciate it.” Dean shrugs with Castiel’s eyes on him, “I mean, yeah, Sam’s a bit jealous when we were kids, but knowing the history behind it didn’t change his mind. Your church came up with it but it works with family values and you get to have presents, so it’s fine, right? What makes it special is the feeling, not just the history behind it. Lies with no bad intentions, right?”

Cas regards Dean who grins broadly at the attention. Then his blue eyes narrow.

“You just want to see the orgies.” He says wryly.

_“Yes!” _

Cas rolls his eyes when Dean attempts a high five but the angel turns away dismissively. Dean chases after him to the mouth of the alley leading to the bright beams that challenges the sun—and stumbles out in the open.

Yet, what Dean sees is much more than the promised Roman pillars and statues and temples he’d seen on encyclopedias and men of letter’s scripts as they near the heart of the market where people wore much the same thing as sandals and togas in ancient Rome. The evening sky seems so far away now. Everywhere fire dances to an unheard rhythm. Lots of torches and fiery candle light fills the whole scene you’d think this is a graveyard and it’s commemorating the dead—or simply a ritual but in this one everyone is involved.

So involved.

Half the people are prancing about stark-naked like it’s the most natural thing in the world, in each others’ arms, legs, octopus put to shame and everything.

Dean only has moments to catch his jaw dropping before Castiel is walking again.

Excited, he strides next to him on the wide street, head craning left and right as he watches in amazement the way the Romans boldly carry themselves. Skins are massive around. Hot, bold, eye popping skins of both male and female limbs sway freely, sweetly, enticingly.

Cas leads the way, Dean right behind him as they brush shoulder to shoulder with many people, most which are carrying and swinging on alcohol. Dean stops a moment to admire a man surrounded by about three women looking pleased himself as he caresses their shoulders. Dean whistles but hurries away when Cas gives him an roll of eyes. Dean grabs Castiel’s shoulder so he doesn’t get left behind, but his head turns here and there. If he didn’t know better, he’d think Gabriel actually had tricked them again by putting them in some sort of porno graphic alternate universe— because that’s what was happening in front of his eyes.

Dean knows Romans love their festivities and celebrations. Also knows from paintings they were sort of rowdy. But not this rowdy. Dean actually feels he is wearing too much dress as this society didn’t seem willing to stick to standards with all assortment of garments left scattered on the floor. In time he held his breath as nakedness seared on his eyes.

Music played across the street, singing voices rang and bodies rolled on the floor in what he thought at first was a wrestling match. Women danced madly with their breast bobbing in their wake. Men butt naked running after them in wild chase_. _It was like one of those old oil paintings of people not so modestly hiding their lumps and bumps. And nobody cares. Everyone else was doing it. Mad cheers and celebration were high strung, bells chimed, people laughed, screamed and moaned.

Dean felt his cheeks flush at the boldness. Not that he was one to complain but everywhere he turned bodies were just there—_intercourse in the middle of the street. _What got him even more tongue-tied was none of the partners seemed to mind _sexuality._ To his immense disbelief, the extent of men on men, clawing on each other’s bodies and faces, was eye popping he had to take a step back. Their nakedness getting to him as his eyes found it hard to keep his eyes from roving the bodies.

Before Dean’s mind can decide what of what world, he finds soft hands wrapping about his cheeks and a mouth against his. Eyes widening, he only has a glimpse of long dark hair and pointed nose before fighting for breath with mouth crashing on his. The kiss lasted for about five seconds, Dean enjoying his time as he responds enthusiastically. Next thing, the woman has pulled back, eyeing him under her long lashes and licking her lips seductively. Dean would have kissed more if not for another man tackling said woman from the side and she disappears right in front of him to kiss another.

Leaving Dean staring at Cas who is standing in front of him, watching him with judging eyes. Cas’ tunic is small, only half covering his bare body with thread meeting on his right shoulder. His legs are firm and white. Dean coughed as he looked modestly on his own garb— it was no better.

“What?” he says defensively at the angel’s narrowed eyes. “She started it!”

Cas rolls his eyes and turns. “I can leave you behind to do your… _coupling_ if you want.”

“Shut up.” Dean walks beside the angel again but with a hope lingering in his eyes as he looks around. “I know Saturnalia from text—_but this kind of multiple banging_? Hard to recover from. This some sort of nude global warming festival? Are they fighting for something? _Is this where the nude bike festival began?”_

“I don’t know what you mean by bike festival. I do not think that is sanitary if naked.”

“Nothing naked is sanitary, Cas. What you gotta learn—these people gotta learn is you don’t just roll on the dirty ground while on your ass, that’s gotta get you some bad shit. That’s how cheap motels sell themselves— so what’s with the city wide I-don’t-care-who-gets-my-pie-orgy festival?”

“Yes. To be fair, you have no idea how your generation has ‘toned it down’ a little. This is common in even before the common era. As common as your folks eating your pie.”

“Tone it down a little, my ass. No one eats my pie. What happened to war and territorial Romans and Gladiators in colosseums?”

“Close at the moment if the celebration is right. This is custom.” Castiel looking above the heads, “That kind of which where the modern society has built its foundations.”

“So, it’s naked time for a whole night? Couldn’t have been sent here a little earlier in the day huh?”

“This lasts for a week.”

_“What?”_ Dean’s mouth falls. He must’ve missed the week-long information. He zips up only after Castiel glares at men and women who try to approach him, eyeing the hunter with gleaming eyes. They change their mind fairly quickly when Cas puts a hand on Dean’s arm.

“You’re really an easy target.” Cas observes but Dean’s brain is in the works.

_“_Dude— last time I checked this isn’t included in the menu of _my co-founded _society. I don’t see this custom in my time for a week long unless it’s recorded and uploaded on pornsites_.”_

“Well, Ancient Rome did fall.” Castiel’s eyes finally focused on Dean, his eyebrows knitting. “And if by some miracle we’re still lucky, we won’t have anything to do with it. Move those legs, Dean, or you want me to check them?”

“No—” Dean says hastily, feeling rather warm. He meets Cas eyes and they move. “But dammit, Cas, this is my fantasy right out of the web, man! Wait for the look on Sammy’s face when he sees this.” Dean managed with a small grin playing on his lips. “This isn’t something you see every day_._ I’m _mesmerized, dude.”_

“I don’t think Sam would enjoy it like you do. I should have known you will find this place arousing, Dean.” The side of Dean’s ears go pink and a flash of Castiel’s naked body under him that night has him straightening. Standing next to Cas seems a bad idea all of a sudden.

“Well.” He stamps on the burn. “What about you? You don’t get… you know…?”

“You mean if I get a reaction on my vessel? No. I’ve seen these many times. It’s nothing neoteric.”

“Yeah? Then why d’you act so scared when I brought you to that strip club if you’ve seen everything?”

“I merely observed. It’s a whole different thing to be expected to do application. And we don’t exactly fall in line to make Nephilims.”

“Then it’s a good thing you and I can’t make—” Dean stops but Cas is already giving him a look that says he understands the complete thought.

“I suppose.” Is his only answer. “Nephilims are rarely made here because angels are not given orders to walk the earth. Only Gabriel, but he’s too careful and does not trust himself to owe one. Lucifer… well, Lucifer’s got Jack…”

Both stops for a moment and Dean hates himself just again. All flooded back in his memory. But when Cas looks up, Dean doesn’t see any anger or resentment there. Just sadness. Dean inhales, feeling his arousal die down.

“Look, Cas, about Jack—”

“It’s not of import now, Dean.”

“Of course, it’s important. I mean, it’s Jack and I—”

“You were doing what you think was right. Saving the world with less time and patience, that’s how I understand it.”

“No, don’t give me the understanding part yet, Cas—I screwed up. It’s my fault Jack’s dead—”

_“Dean.”_

Castiel’s voice is firm. Dean realizes he’s avoided Cas eyes the whole time and meets his eyes squarely. “You don’t forgive me, Cas.” He looks up. “You don’t forgive me for every screw up I do, okay? It’s not because you think I don’t deserve your anger—I do. Now I’m not telling you to hate me completely—but you consider it, okay? Because at the end of the day you and I—we’re not strap on some star of fate, stuck together. We’re stuck together because we chose it, and free to walk away when we don’t want shit anymore, alright?”

Castiel stares searchingly in his eyes, intense and looking for sincerity. He looks like he’s really considering it. The world stops for a moment, even the raucous making out sessions are nothing compared to the heat the blue eyes can give Dean. He thinks he wants to kiss Cas for a moment, then pushes the thought away, hoping Cas wasn’t able to channel that.

He also prays Cas doesn’t hate him for it.

“I don’t want to hate you, Dean.”

“I didn’t really try harder to keep you out from it.” Dean says brokenly. It’s hard to keep a straight face when the downer you’ve been putting on hold suddenly hits you like an airplane falling down from the sky, unexpected. Dean feels his eyes sting and he looks down. Oh hell, oh hell, one moment he’s happily enjoying the scene, the next he’s crying senseless. He wipes his eyes with the back of his hand and sniffs, then chuckles. “I’m a fucking pregnant woman with plenty of hormones.”

“You can’t be pregnant.” Cas says, tilting his head but not because of curiosity, but because his hand reaches for the back of Dean’s head and pulls him in for a kiss. “I can try but you won’t.”

Their lips crash.

Dean’s first instinct, he thinks is to stop Cas. Only to find his hands firmly grabbing Castiel’s nape and pulling closer. He can never believe how easily his mouth wets at the intense exchange but Castiel’s lips are so soft and just opens to him. He presses to feel the fullness of the chapped lips and gets what he finds: cotton soft but solid. A soft moan escapes Dean and this practically embarrasses him, he tries pulling away. Only to find himself getting backed and crowded and not sure how—but he’s suddenly backed on a wall. He pauses only to breathe a little, eyes unfocused, head whirling. The pink plush lips press more gently this time, then indulgently dips deeper. Castiel is quite aggressive, a kind of character Dean has already seen in him before—impatient and actually commanding. He doesn’t pull back and Dean thinks he’s getting laid right there and then when tongue licks its way to explore his mouth.

It’s amazing how arousing to do it in public without getting attention. That’s because the general public is doing much much more. Dean thinks he wants to just get Cas on a table and ravish him there. He just isn’t sure if Cas would like that because the way the kiss is leading, it seems like Castiel has other ideas on his own. Like he wants to take reign and gain control. Like he wants to take Dean and splay him on the table, on the ground— and Dean will give it a go.

The thought sends a sharp kick in his hardening length. _Shit._

“Cas—” he rasps when he pulls away, only for Castiel’s mouth to land on his neck. Dean’s skin heats up and melts where Castiel currently busies himself and oh, god where does Cas get all these ideas? “Cas—”

Castiel groans and takes Dean’s lips full again.

Then Cas’ lips disappear but Dean gives a yank to catch the swollen lips and kiss the angel again and again, open-mouthed and biting his lips, press of stubbles—his mouth falls on Castiel’s jaw, sucking on that sharp chin he’s always have a thing— this thing whatever they have between them, Dean can’t point out. He won’t touch Cas—but only if Cas doesn’t push him crazy like this.

“Dean.” Cas’ voice wheezes when he emerges from the battle, debauched.

Dean grins and only after he bites the angel’s jaw with one last nip on his bottom lip, the hunter pulls up, green eyes steadily meeting the blown away blue. Dean digs his fingers on Cas’ side where his hands stay. Cas looks rumpled, there’s a glint in his eyes Dean can read. The hunter licks his lips and gulps.

“You started it.” He mutters sheepishly.

Cas stares. Then a tinge of pink—and he blushes furiously.

“You are very irresistible after all.”

“My only sin.” Dean replies with a wink. But the next moment, the hunter’s eyes darken. “You gotta be careful, Cas… I only know how to burn everyone I care about... I’m nothing good. You gotta step back once in a while. Save yourself while you can. Cause I can’t.”

Castiel takes in what he says, his blue eyes not leaving Dean’s. Just when Dean thinks the angel has begins pulling away, he finds his lips locked on Castiel’s again.

“I’m never afraid to burn for you.” He kisses Dean again, like it’s natural.

Dean sighs. “I am.”

Castiel pulls away enough to have a good look at the hunter. Dean does the rest and straightens himself. He looks around and isn’t surprised none is giving them the eyes most the modern society will be judging them through. Not that Dean gives rat’s ass. Sometimes the problem of society _is _society.

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

Dean turns when Castiel stands beside him with a guilty look on his face.

“Me too.” Dean looks down his visible toes and wiggles them as if it’s the first time he’s noticed how wiggly they are. “I shouldn’t have—I uh—”

“No, I mean… I’m sorry I don’t want to stop.”

Dean cranes his neck in Castiel’s direction so fast, he thinks he might’ve sprained a nerve or two. Cas isn’t looking at him anymore. There’s a final air of decision in his eyes that gives Dean a crazy set of butterflies in his stomach. He doesn’t need to ask Cas what he means. The way they kiss makes Dean melt and if he’s got the reigns on this, they won’t be standing there like lose circuits ready to explode at contact. Still, he schools his expression but the cold air on his lips left by Castiel’s hot mouth makes Dean swipe a hand on them.

_He is so fucked._

Dead air. Dean clears his throat, turning the conversation to details they needed to talk about. “Uh… uh… Gabriel will… Gabriel can’t come back.”

“We need to find the sigil, yes.” Cas offers lightly.

“Yeah, knowing Gabriel even he would come back from the grave. I mean, this! You think your horny brother will miss this for the world?!” Dean finally has the guts to look at Cas who’s already ahead of him.

The moment their eyes meet, Dean flushes. Castiel has way too much control over his facial expression, though he doesn’t just deadpans. There’s almost a tiny speck of sparkle in his eyes that Dean likes to hunt for to check if the angel is amused.

Cas is.

“That is saying something, I’m afraid. But the sigils must be so strong to keep an archangel out. I barely pulled myself back together when I realized Gabriel was gone and had to use my own grace to finish the leap. The Pantheons are obviously behind this.”

“Gabriel did say that. But know what, Cas? I think Gabriel is still worried about you.” He looks Cas in the eyes solemnly, “I mean, the dude’s practically breathing on one lung when I asked him to send me back.”

“Angels don’t need lungs.”

Dean doesn’t feel sorry when his eyes fall directly on Cas’ chest. His pectorals are well-shaped and he remembers running his mouth there—_fuck._ Dean clamps his mouth shut.

Dammit.

“Yeah—you—you know what I mean dammit. Point is, he wants someone to be here for you and between you and me—who do you think fits the category among the left behind people you got as backup in the bunker? Sam will get attention before he can even duck his gigantic head. And you know I’ll kill Gabriel before he can get hands on my brother.”

“He’ll never die.” Cas sighs, but a smile is tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Come on, Cas. Face it, I’m your only guy. We’re classical eh… profoundly bond, right?”

Cas narrows his eyes again, his face grim.

“If he’s really worried about me then he shouldn’t have sent you here.”

“What? Aren’t you glad I’m here?”

Cas ponders at the question for a moment with a playful smirk on the hunter’s face.

“You know I’m always happy when you’re around, Dean. That will never change.”

“Then stop yapping and let’s get this over with—” a body suddenly crashed on Dean’s shoulder as the crowd began pushing to make way for something in the middle of the road, making Dean almost lose his footing. But even before the full domino effect can send him on the ground, he finds a solid figure halting his fall. He looks around him to find Castiel beside him in a blink of an eye, frowning heavily at the mass of people suddenly flocking around them. Dean feels Cas’ hands curl around his waist protectively and didn’t feel any protest at being held so closely. There are so many people gathering on the side street now and even Dean doesn’t think it’s a good idea to let go.

Getting separated from Cas is a no-go.

“What’s happening?” he asks, finally setting eyes on the large space left in the middle of the street with people in line waiting in anticipation.

“It’s a parade.” Cas whispers so close in his right ear, Dean has to hold his breath, “It’s the beginning of Saturnalia. Dean, don’t let go. The crowd tends to get wild after this.”

The hunter looked where the angel and everyone else is looking. From some distance, a throng of people in a procession is coming, most of them wearing mask and— in Dean’s disbelief— long garments and togas. A band of what looked like soldiers in masks comes to view, carrying a small chariot on their shoulders. Above them was a grand chair and on it sat a masked man wearing golden silks and threads that shone in the reflection of the torches around. Surrounding the man are four men in white toga wrapped elegantly on their bodies, covering even their heads. The people in the middle of the street all cried in celebration, standing up and stopping amid their orgasms and fervor as the parade went closer.

Everyone is chanting some sort of cheer around him. “_Io, Saturnalia!”_

As it gets closer, the whole mass of people began pushing and pulling but Castiel grounded himself behind Dean, his body like a wall separating him from others, his hand on his waist like a shield barricading him from any danger. Dean leans his head on the angel and reaches a hand on Cas’ arm wrapped about him where it stayed on his hip. Cas seems to sense the tension in his body. It doesn’t help when the angel leans down, his mouth pressing on the hunter’s left ear so close, Dean feels like sighing.

“Don’t worry, Dean.” He rumbles in his ear. “I won’t let anyone touch you again. I won’t let you go.” His nose cards on Dean’s cheeks and it takes the man a moment to respond.

“Yeah, letting go—that’s probably not a good idea right now.” He gulps when his ass just slightly touches a bulge right in the middle of Cas’ hips. It gets his head spinning. Cas pulls him closer.

“You okay, Dean?” but there’s a small smile hidden there. Dean blinks and tries to calm down.

“Uhh… Yeah… you’re very warm.”

“I always keep this vessel at temperature of your liking.”

“You don’t feel so hot when I found you wounded on that haystack bed.”

There’s a pause. Then Dean gets pulled closer. He can fully feel Castiel without any space or air to breath. Cas is hard and the angel isn’t shy about it. Since when has Cas become so… bold? Then Dean remembers he’s the one who started the whole mess and Castiel is responding. Right now his response is so physically overwhelming. Cas likes what they have between them. His shy angel… but Cas has never been meek with him. In fact, if anything, Cas has always been the sass when it comes to things outside social interactions. That’s right. Castiel has always been silently in control. The commander of heaven.

Dean sucks on air just as Cas answers. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“Just don’t… do it again.”

“Are you okay, Dean?” Cas spreads his palms just below Dean’s navel to caress him there. Dean gives a sudden jot forward, knowing his own erection is giving him away from the thin piece of tunic he is wearing.

“Dammit, Cas, you wanna play this game in public?” he grinds his ass back to Cas’ hard cock. The angel gasps and clutches Dean’s stomach close. Dean hears him sigh and feels the angel’s hand pull back to his hips.

“I’m sorry, Dean…I…” Castiel murmurs on his ears, apologetic. “I don’t know what’s happening to me… it’s weird.”

“Well, I sure do.” Dean snorts, not backing up from Cas’, even when the angel has stopped rubbing on him, “You’re horny. I get it. Been there plenty of times, Cas. The best thing you do is really get off… and uh…” Dean gulps. “Maybe take a shower.”

“I don’t want a shower.” Castiel admits with another sigh and Dean has the impulse to look back because it’s rare to hear Cas sound like he’s pouting. “I want…” his pointed nose is suddenly nuzzling behind Dean’s neck. The hunter blinks. Castiel is much, much too intimate just now.

“Cas? You okay?”

“I’m sorry, Dean. I can’t help it.” His left hand slides up Dean’s chest and stays there. “Ever since this… I feel… I feel the need to protect you…” his voice trails away.

Dean looks down his hands to where Castiel is particularly touching his chest. To his tattoo where the angel can see a different mark. 

“Well, Cas you’re doing more than wantin to protect my ass.” Dean chuckles, feeling elated for some reason as he presses back to the angel again. Cas groans softly.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Cas whispers, much more himself as he attempts to extract his hands from holding the hunter.

“No—don’t.” Dean grabs Castiel’s hands and slides them back around his waist. “I like you warm and you don’t want me getting lost with these people. You just need a distraction.”

“You’re distraction enough. I should be finding a way to get us out of here. Instead, all I’ve been doing is keeping my eyes on you.”

Dean chuckles. “My bad. But for the record, you’re quite distracting yourself.”

“I don’t see you kissing me on impulse.”

“I don’t kiss you on principle of a gentleman.”

“Which means I may be lacking on my appeal if the standard can stop you.”

“Cas—you askin me to ravage you out of nowhere? Cause I totally will!”

“Actions, not words.” Cas observes. Dean stares at him. How cute is Castiel really… pouting. Licking his lips, Dean turns his attention back to the parade. He hears Cas sigh but teasing the angel has always been Dean’s good points. They are distracted enough.

“Wanna tell me more about Saturnalia?”

Dean can feel Cas’ eyes burning on his head and almost feel the roll of the angel’s eyes. 

“You seem well-versed with the topic moments ago, Dean.”

“You’re not talking to Sammy, dude, I forget details, but try me.”

“Don’t sell yourself short. You are part of the Men of Letters and so much more, Dean. I always try you.”

Dean tires to turn amusedly at his companion and works his eyes in front, deeply racking his brain with fingers rubbing in a gentle snap.

“Alright. Uh… Saturnalia is about Saturn, obviously…some god of Agriculture worshipped by many because he bears abundance of gifts from soils. I only remember Gaelic rituals around British, no Scotland? I remember Sam telling me bout’ how it’d be nice to have a vacation there but we both know our credentials and criminal record will get us some international spotlight which we don’t really need, the paranoid dude. I mean, he’s not wrong, uhh…”

Castiel kisses his nape. Dean’s body shudders when the hot mouth finds a soft spot to suckle on.

“Don’t stop on my account.” The angel whispers.

“That’s kinda hard, you…uh… off point… alright, pagan festival, yeah, some kind of men and women uh… dance rituals where they get naked. Part of a cult believing of releasing their inner demons, that’s how I got across it. Most rituals include sacrifices and stages, then flames and torches anyway. But all they do is dance and yeah get laid around—that kind of festival. Not really a version for my little brother’s… Christmas.”

He exhales. Cas just put all attention on his neck and Dean, for the life of him, turns his head the other way, giving Cas plenty of skin he runs his mouth on.

“Dean…” there’s a rumble in his voice the hunter can only recognize as _arousal._

“Cas…” They are still standing in public where the world is bright and plenty of Romans surrounding them, parade on the go with cheers and wines. Suddenly, Dean is very interested with the way his ass is sticking back to the angel. Cas in a word is very interested too.

“Most of European countries before the antiquity stage and before Christianity invaded their culture have the same festival celebrating winter solstice in different names. That’s how pagan gods are worshipped…”

“Way to go to keep the mood.” Dean chuckles and it probably has something to do with Cas’ warm body against his back. They watch as the parade passes like a long shimmering gold line and the crowd cheer where they stood, all eyes falling on a large wooden statue of Saturn carried on shoulders by a number of Romans while people shout enthusiastically around, _“Io, Saturnalia!”._

“Are they like greeting each other in Latin or swearing?”

“Oh. I’m sorry.”

To Dean’s hidden disappointment, Castiel slips his hand out of his waist. The feeling of protection is replaced by vulnerability and Dean’s body longed for the heat behind his back. But it turns out the angel wanted to spin him around as the next thing, Dean feels himself whirl face to face in front of the angel. Castiel places firm hands on either side of his head, cupping his ears. Dean holds his breath as Castiel put their temples together and without explaining Cas’ eyes glowed blue.

But Dean doesn’ ask anything. Dean trusted Castiel. _Fuck, he’ll trust the guy who had his hands wrapped in his cock just this morning._

There is a snap in his ears like firecrackers going off. Dean feels a tug on his feet like the gravitation of the earth is suddenly lifted, then he gets roughly back in. When he opens his eyes, he finds Castiel’ blue burning on him. Dean’s eyes automatically fell on his chapped lips and lingered there. For a whole freaking second, Dean thinks, not for the first time, what will happen if he dips down and kiss his friend. The pleasure must be unimaginable.

He gulps as if the restrain is too much but he is able to divert back to Cas’s eyes, like he does for so many times and is still successful.

“You should be able to understand them now.”

The angel’s hands slip down t Dean’s hips. Dean just stares at the angel who is no longer looking at him. Like it is natural that they hold each other in the same space, chest pressed almost too intimately but Dean told himself it was the crowd’s fault. He loves that Cas is so near. Always enjoyed the angel’s warm presence. Fuck personal space, Cas is Dean’s only space. A turbulent to grab the angel’s cheeks and kiss him has Dean reeling. But he placated it by putting his own hands around Cas’ waist too. Cas didn’t seem to mind.

“Did you uh… just uh, installed Latin in my head?” he asks, catching Cas looking back at him, his smile broadening when Castiel nods. “You can do that? Shoulda’ve done that when we were racking our brains on some unknown ancient translation, you know? Save us the long trip.”

Cas shakes his head.

“You always seem so able, Dean. You and Sam, that’s why you’re the best hunters I know.”

Dean flushes. Not for the first time the urge to blurt out something he has been keeping deep inside him pushes up, wanting to be known. Being held by the angel so closely has Dean reach his limits. But he can go beyond that for the sake of keeping Cas.

Still, he thinks he doesn’t get to initiate. The past evening has done enough but if Cas wants him… Besides, he knew Castiel’s answer. It’s too obvious in the way he touches him. Dean has never felt scared in his whole life of breaking something.

“Are you alright, Dean? Did I hurt you?”

“No.”

“Sure? Because you look in pain just now.”

“Never mind it, Cas. What were you saying?”

Cas still frowns at him. “I said the parade is ending. We should follow the crowd.”

He doesn’t move though. He looks from the parade to Dean as if considering his options. The hunter blinks and realizes what Castiel is opting. This time he draws the line.

“Cas? We gotta save… we gotta go back to Sam… we gotta focus, man.”

Castiel suddenly smiles, his gums showing Dean thinks the sun must be in there somewhere.

“I did tell you that you are distracting. Alright, we need to move. Let’s follow the crowd.”

Dean looks up to where Cas is pointing and saw to his amazement a set of gigantic columns of forty meter in height shadowing the entire vicinity from the sky. The parade is heading there indeed and Dean feels Cas’ arm slide on his back as they begin moving with the throng.

“Where is this going?” he asks, glad to lean back on Cas’ strong shoulder.

“In the Capitoline Hill, at The Temple of Saturn where the ritual priest called Pontiff Maximus—the priest you saw in the parade— will bless a statue of Saturn. The ritual includes removal of wools covering its feet as a symbol of freedom, god of liberation. This will mark the beginning of the celebration of the winter solstice and the coming of the sun god.”

“Sun god?” Dean shoots Castiel a look. As if reading his mind, Castiel nods.

“That’s what I thought… the Fire is a powerful force to be kept. Prometheus did not give it to humans bare. It was contained in a powerful plant from Olympus.. if anything else, the Forum Romanum is where you can find all sorts of people. If luck is on our side—and I do hope so—we will find Prometheus there. He would want to see the unveiling if what I think is correct. Prometheus will be there.”s

Dean lick his lips and gives Cas a side look. He tries to play it cool and casual but the question has been burning at the back of his mind ever since Gabriel mentioned it in the Bunker.

“So… uh… who’s Prometheus and why does Gabriel think you can charm him away with the fire?”

“He’s an old acquaintance.” The angel responds without a beat.

“Just an acquaintance?” Dean raises an eyebrow.

Cas falls silent for a moment and Dean sees him pressing his lips tight. The hunter feels a compression in his stomach, a kind that doesn’t involve Cas’ hand already holding his middle. He knows Cas has been living for a millenia—who actually knows how many special friends his made along the way? Cas is cute in his own sense if you get pass the badass part. Dean blinks at the idea and sucks some air.

“You know what? Skip it—I don’t need to pry about anything you don’t wanna talk about—” he tries to squirm off the angel’s hold but Cas only held him close and begins speaking.

“Basically, Prometheus is labelled as the Fire Bringer. The Mortal’s Ally. I don’t know how much you mortals know about him, but he did bring the Fire over mankind when they need it the most. It’s one of the solid stories of how mankind discovered fire. _One night during winter as mortals suffer the cold, Prometheus ever the sympathetic mortal friend stole the Fire from Zeus’ temple and brought it to earth_. The punishment he received is unfair and not one he deserved so I—”

“Let me guess.” Dean cuts him. “You saved him.”

“I did.”

“So, you’re his personal Hercules?”

“You know his story.”

Dean pauses for a moment, and then chuckles. He feels Cas glancing in his direction with a frown.

“Why are you laughing?”

“Because you. You just can’t help yourself in saving anyone in trouble, can you?” Dean meets his eyes with a gentle flicker in his own. “You’re a real angel, Cas, you know that?”

Castiel squints. “I don’t think there are fake angels in heaven.”

“Yeah, coz they are dicks and your dick brothers and sisters can never hold a candle up to you.”

“I am not aware of any event where they need to hold a candle—”

“You’re cute, Cas, you know that?”

Dean snaps his head forward with a grin still lingering in his face, leaving Castiel frowning at him.

“I think that’s a mild way of flirting, Dean.”

“Can’t help a dude for trying. Besides—whoa—”

Whatever Dean has to say left his mouth the moment his eyes fall at the end of the road they are heading. The night sky did nothing but emphasize the dark shapes of columns lit by dozens of torches surrounding the entire space. The giant columns he saw some paces ago has now appeared right before their eyes. With a mass of bobbing heads of people whom Dean is sure you can find every kinds of people of the society moving in the same direction, Dean can now see the spectrum of a massively constructed temple.

The temple stands tall in the middle of the gigantic arcs with marble rock base podium elevated from the ground. It is around seven meters high with stairs on the side where the Priests are now standing in front of a portico. Ionic columns of granite made up the eight gigantic columns stand behind the podium with scrolled volutes topping each head which are all connected with a pediment where some inscription in Latin are scribed and read, to Dean’s delight as he can read Latin now, translates as—_ The Senate and People of Rome’._

It’s the Roman Forum.

Dean is pulled into a stop by Cas.

_“Dean.”_

The hunter follows the angel’s eyes and sees a large marble statue of a god whom Dean can only guess as Saturn standing in the corner of the temple. Like Cas has said, there is indeed a wool on its foot and Dean wonders what idiot placed it there when the ritualistic prayer about earth and land begins. Dean watches in awe as one of the priests turns and begin unwrapping the white wool covering the statue’s feet. Beside him, he feels Castiel tenses.

“Cas?” he looks but finds Castiel is not looking there.

“The _Vesta_.” Whispers the angel next to his ear, blue eyes transfix at a dome looking building just on the right side of the stage. “Of course. The Eternal Flame… Dean, that’s what we’re looking for.”

“Huh? What?” He asks, trying to find where Cas is looking and then sees for himself white smoke billowing from the circular temple. Cas is looking excited beside him with those blue eyes round and glinting.

“That’s why it’s here in Rome… most ancient society have worshipped fire, it’s one of the earliest forms of religion… Romans in particular who believe in the power of Fire. They believe in the deity Vesta, the Virgin goddess pure as fire itself. Her sacred flame. This is it, Dena… it’s in that temple.”

Before Dean can process what is going on, Cas begins moving ahead, pushing people aside with his inhuman strength. Dean follows with gritted teeth, eyes set on the temple and making sure not to lose sight of Castiel. The Priests on the stage begin speaking carefully placed but Dean is no longer paying attention. Castiel has just reached the stone steps toward the circular temple, not even waiting for him.

Cheers explodes once the Romans in front shouts, “_Io, Saturnalia!”_

_“Io, Saturnalia!”_

Dean takes a sharp inhale and urgently goes after Cas who has already disappeared inside the temple. The hunter frantically runs after him. Cas is so sure the _Fire_ they needed to revive the sun is here, in this tiny temple. He doesn’t understand a thing about Vestal, but he isn’t hanging around to find out. He sneaks inside the temple with apprehension because for one—temples are sacred. Angels may be recognized by gods to enter it, but him, a mere mortal with blood on his hands—he doesn’t think they’d think kindly for his intrusion. Still, he has to follow Cas and follow him he did.

The temple is long, narrowed and tall. He can’t even see pass the shadow of the ceilings. But despite being too dark, the temple radiates of heat the surprises even the hunter. With its tall pillars, Dean expected the run of torches on each side, much the same with what’s outside. He finds Cas on the last turn he made leading to the heart of the temple.

The angel’s face is set. Dean grabs his arm back.

“Cas—quit running off on your own like that! What if we get caught?”

“It’s alright. Most of the courts and schools are closed. No Roman soldiers or anyone in position is expected to adhere rules, it is part of the tradition. Robbery and other misdeeds are kind of social order accepted for seven day’s celebration. _I need to get the Fire and get us out of here.”_

Cas is almost ready to enter the large dome ahead of him when people starts emerging from the opposite entrance. Dean tugs Castiel back and the two of them press their back on the wall. They watch silently as six women clad in pure white stands out in the middle of the gray dome and billow of smoke from a fountain. Dean is almost mesmerized by their precise movement until he sees two of the women stand at the edge of the fountain, opposite where the smoke is heading.

“What…?” he whispers to Cas but the angel presses a finger on his lips. Dean quietens.

“_Vestal Virgins. Guardian of the Eternal Flame.”_

Dean’s eyes widen in understanding while the angel nods curtly.

“Do not worry, they are harmless. Simply young maidens who tend to the fire day and night, that’s their only job. Anyone who violates this temple, or the Priestess are said to receive the wrath of gods. The god of this country, in fact, who is said to be Father of Romulus and Remus… one of whom founded Rome.”

“Lemme guess—by that _god, _we mean the old wrathful god who’s never taken sides of the goodies, huh?” The grim look Castiel gives his way has Dean nervous. “Cas…?”

“Yes, it’s believed the reason why Rome’s formidable at the beginning of the age is because it is protected by the same god… other gods fear him because of his malevolent nature and taste for chaos. You know him too, Dean. That’s the same war god, the same god who _claimed_ you.” His blue eyes spark.

“Yeah, tell me more? He’s in our timeline pushing Ragnarok—”

“You don’t understand—my claim mark on you is slowly disappearing. It means he is _here_, Dean. Stalking you. I’m going to kill him.”

Dean inhales.

_Oh… oh shit!_

_ _


	8. The stars incline Us, They do not bind Us

_ ** ** _

_ **Astra inclinant, sed non obligant** _

* * *

They are blocked by stone pillars, so when Castiel makes a leap to reveal himself out of the dark, Dean grabs him back and slams him flat on the wall with as little noise as he can. Castiel is glaring at him with that angelic constipation—the angel soldier Dean can never crack on.

“Let me go, Dean.” He takes Dean’s shoulders but he did not make any further moves even though Dean’s no where near his strength even if he is still recovering. “They are only young women who does not have real power—”

_“_I’m not worried about them. You said these gods return the favor ten folds when they get so pissed off, now you want to send them cracking fireworks to get attention? _It’s a god! You have a death wish on your head, Cas? _Calm down, come on!”

Cas lifts his chin in defiance. “We get the Fire. I get the god. What is wrong with that, Dean?”

“The wrong thing is it’s stupid, and you’re not doing anything stupid as long as you’re with me!”

“Then go head outside and wait for me.” Cas says dismissively, pushing Dean away, but Dean presses his shoulder adamantly. Cas’ back hits the cold stone and they are glaring closer this time.

“Don’t be a joke, man! You’re practically going to lead another war to another god! We barely got off the last one, we can’t keep doing this! Calm down!”

“Dean—” Cas says through gritted teeth but then—

_“Who’s there?”_ one of the maidens from the center of the dome asks. There are shuffling feet and then Cas and Dean are gone from the narrow passage. Dean drags Cas by the arm to the light of the entrance they slipped into a while ago. Before they could completely come out, however, they see shadows heading their way. Dean hesitates. Do they fight? Cas suddenly takes the lead and pulls on Dean’s arm to a tiny passage on the left corner. Darkness fills his eyes as he moves after Cas, only following the sound of the angel’s too light feet.

And then there’s light.

Dean shifts his feet back at the brightness but Cas tugs him closer. Dean casts a look behind him and can only see the gray entrance and thought of the sounds of feet they heard. Too heavy to be other priestess and the shadows he glimpsed are too broad.

_Soldiers._

Didn’t Cas say all authorities aren’t expected after this Saturnalia thing? Like anyone can do what they please? Does this mean this temple is so important? But then—of course. The Fire is here—his thoughts are halted when he bumps to Cas who stopped solidly he might’ve been a very hard brick.

Dean’s about to call him off for the sudden dangerous halt that coulda give him concussion, but then his eyes stop when he notices they have come out of the clearing where all the lights are coming from. Except, instead of coming out on the opposite side of the temple, Dean and Cas find themselves standing in front of a crowd of people, above the stage, standing under a giant pawed statue whose door appear to be its base.

Dean blinks awkwardly as all Roman citizens stare at him with open mouths uncertain of who they are and what they are doing. Dean grits his teeth.

So much for not standing out—they just interrupted the middle of a ritual.

_How do they escape this?_

The answer came in a crackle of fire— one second the blaze made by the wool subsides slowly, the next minute it is flaring furiously upwards again with burst of power that has people screaming. Dean shoots the angel a look and sees that Cas is glaring in concentration at the torches.

_Of course, it was him!_

Castiel’s eyes glow deep blue as he used his grace, leaving Dean staring at him, enthralled not for the first time of his angel. Not the first time Dean feels much grateful he has someone like Cas on his side. The Romans in their togas and tunics scream in awe and horror but that is the last thing Dean sees when he is dragged down the podium by the wrist. Cas has him moving. Dean quickly follows the angel and both slip in the distracted crowd and are gone from sight within seconds.

The almost empty street is a whirl to Dean with Cas clutching his hand. There was something about Cas that night, about how Dean couldn’t keep his eyes off more than usual and he attributes that to the torches lighting their way back to the market. Because Cas is glowing far much brighter than any fire.

People are still shouting from across the temple when Dean looks back. The gigantic shadows of the columns are still upon them and he doubts they’ll ever escape it. He and Castiel manage to return back in the almost empty market place except the vendors to an open banquet with numbers of tables where some people has begun celebrating. What makes Dean forget the adrenaline rush are the food served by table. There are bountiful. With his mouthwatering, Dean is sorry they have to walk pass it because the angel is still dragging him on his side.

Cas’ vice like grip on his wrist makes any attempt of stop impossible.

Without speaking, the angel leads them at the end of the forum to an alley away from the glaring light where he shoves Dean in hiding. The two lean on the wall, trying to sense anyone following them. Both alert and throwing glances at each other, Dean heaves a sigh when after a long pause they found no one on their trail. He closes his eyes tight, the memory of the wool getting snatched before his eyes playing in his mind.

“Are you alright, Dean?”

The hunter looks back at Castiel. He doesn’t know what to expect. Are they stuck here? Is it the end of the road? Dean looks hard in those blue, trying to search in the angel’s eyes if there is any way to fix what happened. They lost the fire. He saw it exhaust before his eyes. That can’t have been the end of everything, can it? For brief seconds, the horror of not being able to bring the promised hope back in the present time weighted on Dean. He remembers Sam and the darkness. He wishes he is back beside his brother with Castiel.

“Are we screwed?” Dean begins with a gulp.

“By definition, yes.” Cas affirms.

“Fuck.”

One thing about Cas is his straight to point responses Dean always finds both comical and unnerving. Right this time, Cas does not have any idea how the reply has Dean shrinking lower. He bows his head, both hands on his hips, trying to think straight. He realizes it’s useless. He palms his face in his frustration.

“Dean. You know we have to take it even if it’s not about Ares.”

“Yeah, I know, but how were we supposed to get that without knocking out those priestesses? I don’t hurt priestess, Cas.” Dean leans his head back the wall, chin up and looking up at the darkened sky with a glare. “And we were so damn near.”

“There will always be another way.” Cas says assuring him. Dean glances at his friend and finds Cas already in his space, giving him an equally stubborn look like he would have shoved him back the wall if Dean doesn’t stop the self-blame. “The power of the fire will not disappear. The Vestas are there to protect it, they will have to since it’s Winter and Saturnalia requires all the household hearth be lit with embers coming from it. We can always come back.”

“So are we just going to snatch an ember too?”

“No. We need the whole thing. I have a feeling it will not be that easy the second time around, though. We got lucky to slip in because everyone’s focused on the celebration but next time, the security will be tighter.”

“I thought you said there are no laws during this holiday?”

“I have a feeling the Vestas will be protected even more.”

“A feeling?” Dean raises an eyebrow where Cas licks his dry lips. That is when the hunter realize that Cas is trying hard not to step back. Is Cas afraid of him. Dean blinks and unclenches his fists. He hates it when he goes on rampage and Cas is always the one receiving his ire. Him and Sam. Shaking his head, he nods. “So what do we do then? Find that other way?”

“I think it’s best if we find Prometheus.” Cas looks positive at the prospect.

“Yeah, your, Mr. Kill-Me-Cause-I-Don’t-Die Amnesia guy? The Titan?”

“I don’t know what you mean, but Prometheus helps humans, Dean. He nearly spent an eternity chained in a mountain, cursed to die by his own father because he stole the Fire to give humans a chance to survive.”

“Yeah, yeah, he’s great dude…” Dean snorted his discomfort, “So how do we find him?”

“Oh, he will find me. He always does.”

The tone of confidence in Castiel’s voice has Dean staring. It isn’t rare for the angel to speak so confidently of others, like how he spoke of heaven and angels without a trace of doubt. This is just like then. Cas speaking of something he thoroughly has faith in. It makes Dean’s inside squirm.

The two freezes when they hear the crowd coming and peered outside the alley. Just as expected they see Romans from the temple emerge from the hollow of the street. There come from the temple a giant wooden statue of Saturn carried by a dozen of men in dark toga. Behind them follows a crowd in procession. The parade is still on the clock. It seems no event can stop the main festival after all.

“I don’t think they minded the distraction at all…” Dean whispers as he and Cas slip out to the tail of the parade, shoulder bumping side by side.

“It was still reckless, but yes, nothing can dampen a Roman’s passion for feasts.”

“Do you think it’s safe to follow them?”

“I have a feeling we should. At the end of this parade is a public banquet to celebrate the beginning of Saturnalia. If I am right, Prometheus will be there.”

“Yeah, yeah…” Dean clears his throat. “You sure your Prometheus will wanna help us? I mean, he does kinda of still sound shady. He stole Fire, right? What makes you think he’ll want to lend it to you?”

“He’ll have no choice.” Cas says determined. “I’ll give him none of it. But I don’t think that will be a problem.”

“Imagine bossing around a pantheon god?”

“He finds me irresistible. I suppose it comes with the package.” Cas smiles at him meaningfully.

“You sayin I’m bossing you around, angel?”

“I don’t mind it if it’s you, Dean. You are my special human.”

“Special human, my ass.” But Dean is smiling. He’s never felt this comfortable with Cas. He notices the way his beautiful blue eyes dart in his direction filled with affection. Dean thinks it should be a sin to look that pretty. That angel with his sinful lips. Dean looks away, feeling the flush of his body. He feels hungry, but on entirely different level.

They walk shoulder to shoulder in silence as they paved their way in the heap of people in what appeared to be a market place. Dean opened his eyes, drinking everything in. This was just like those in old pictures depicting ancient society, with many people in different colors of tunics, others barely covered, walking around the shadow of stone buildings covering the sky. Stonework homes towered before him, buildings of multistory brick and masonry apartment blocks with doors in every two feet where Romans come in and out in numbers. There were many additional floors above each masonry made of woods that rose from three to five complex to accommodate the citizens. Something like home. An insula, Dean found his brain forming the word Castiel had explained but it seemed natural that he knows with Latin words in his brain. Cas had done it this time.

Dean scans the vicinity with some interest. There is no getting used to the blatant hookups around, even the residence of the apartment on different floors are doing kinky things in their balcony that made Dean feel like he was some peeping tom. He chuckles, feeling ridiculous. Hell, he didn’t even need to try with only torn blankets and rags hanging on doors to keep apartments’ privacy. Averting his eyes, he checks the surrounding, making sure his shoulder would not lost contact with Cas. The market as full of tents and tables selling bottles and amphorae, jars made of clay. Fruits stalls were abundant as well and Dean could swear he smelled freshly baked bread and crust. There are also vastly shaped ornaments on other stalls in shape of the moon, stars and sun. Candles were a top box like they matter. From a distant, Dean can see two gigantic pillars being set up in the middle of the street. He tugged on Cas’ arm and pointed at it.

“The Pantheon.” Cas says quietly as they sidled with the rest of the non- copulating group they found around the corner. “Temple of all gods. They’ve only begun the construction early this year… It would not be finished till 126 AD.”

Dean nodded with few background knowledge he remembered about the temple. Sneakily, he pulled Cas close, angel shoulder on his chest, whispering on his ear something he thought the Romans shouldn’t find amusing as he did.

“Will anyone see me if I vandalize that and write my name on it? Then go back and visit when we get back home?”

Cas gives him a narrowed look. Dean smiled cheekily. “Seize the day.”

“The Pantheon will be under many constructions and destructions.” Castiel cleared his throat in an attempt to hide his smile, “I am not sure if it pays to be caught and put into a slave market just to put your name on an old ruin.”

Dean’s face falls. “Slave market?” he remembers their first encounter getting sold to the burly man behind a temple. He was still a bit dazed by then, but he remembered there are other people—naked people—around him waiting to be sold.

Castiel blinks and pauses at him. They stopped in the middle of the road and people pass them by like water flowing unstoppably.

“Yes, Dean. There are many around you.”

Dean looks around, expecting to see half beaten men or women or children wearing rags kissing their master’s feet but there was none. Everyone walked in celebration with drinks and food in their hands. He shook his head and turned back at the angel.

“Where? Are they locked up during festivals or something?”

“No, Dean. There are everywhere. Observe the people wearing triangular red caps? That’s the liberty cap. They call it here the pileus. They are free to roam the street for a week long in this holiday. Because it is Saturnalia. This is one of the highlights of celebrating the popular festival in all Ancient Rome.”

“Hey, red caps, don’t tell me—”

“You believe in Santa, Dean?”

_“Shuddup!” _Dean raises his eyes again and sure enough, saw dozens of people walking the street with everyone else, donning the red, soft cap on their heads. He thought at first it was a decoration for the festival and didn’t pay it attention. Now that he looked closely, there were really a great number flocking the street. Dean frowned a little, the suddenly took Cas by the arm. He marshalled the angel on a corner where a spot was left behind between stalls. Cas surveys him curiously, head tilting.

“They’re slaves?”

“Free for the duration of Saturnalia.”

“But no one helps them?”

“Nothing we can do, Dean.” Cas shakes his head, “It’s ancient times. Everyone in here is already dead. This holiday is popular crimes and debaucheries are allowed like gambling, looting, robbery, even sexual acts. They can pillage cities and not get caught. They celebrate loosening of moral restrictions. You must not think the people here all live like this. They are under Octavian’s rule and the Courts do execute the law. But Saturnalia happens.”

Dean stares at the angel. He catches himself in time to blink back ahead when something calls his attention. The street has been emptied with the parade sweeping most citizen towards the large banquet. But there is one man sitting on the stone street to Dean’s left still hanging around and as they pass, Dean cannot help feeling he is being watched. He looks around and finds the dirty haired burly man watching him like a hawk with dark leering eyes. The only covering of cloth are in his loins and he looks half drunk. Dean glares back, wondering if the middle finger stands any other meaning for Romans. Heck—if Christmas can become orgies here—who knows what stuff a finger can tell people? Just as well, the man raises thick eyebrows at him with his dull eyes sparked with interest.

Dean glares daggers. Nah, better ignore it. People tend to lose themselves when drunk—

“It’s pretty cold out tonight, boy. You wanna keep me warm?”

“_Dick_.” Dean calls slightly amused. He doesn’t know how that sounded in _Latin._

He sees the man smirk as he peers at him from Dean’s face then to his body, leering at him openly, eyes staying just long enough in between his legs and smiling. The hunter feels a sickening ripple in his stomach and decides to play it. He stops in front of the man, letting him leer long enough because aint no one getting laid tonight. But the man stands up, sneering at Dean, making his hair standing on end when the man stroked down his white tunic, on to his hardening groin. Dean has too much surprise for the day that he lets his eyebrows rise up in amusement.

“Can you believe this?” he whispers to Cas but Castiel is silent beside him. Actually, Cas is giving the man a hellish look, which the last time Dean had seen, even Crowley disappeared. But the man on the corner doesn’t let up, eyes leering.

“Strip down for me boy and get on the wall,” the black-haired man says loud, “I’ll give you something big to busy your pretty mouth you’ll forget the food.”

Dean’s lips turn upside down and yeah, he is just about to go all hunter to a human being when he feels a strong hand pull him back and drags him away.

“Hey, c’mon, Cas just one punch! Lemme smack him, dude—”

Dean glances at the angel in protest, wanting nothing but to connect his fist on the fucker but then sees the angel’s livid expression. Dean has seen Cas angry on multiple occasion, but it’s rare to see him wear that face when dealing with another human. Dean can feel him radiate.

“Right!” shouts the man laughing, “_Let me fuck your tight ass for celebration’s sake!”_

Castiel whirls around so fast, nearly tossing Dean if not for the hunter quickly sensing what he is about to do and wraps both hands around the angel. He can swear he saw Cas’ eyes glow just now that had the fucker on the street shutting his mouth and falling on the floor with a loud thud.

“Cas, hey,” Dean slips a hand on his friend’s waist, easily embracing him. “It’s okay, Cas, he’s stopped. Come on, you’re making the guy wet his pants.” He pushes Cas behind and lead him back on track where they soon find themselves heading the general direction.

“You okay, Dean?”

“You’re asking me? You’re the one who got all powerup on me, dude. The guy actually peed his pants! But you aren’t about to use your mojo on a human, are you? Geez, I could’ve taken care of him.”

Cas huffs, blue eyes still sharp, “The way he looked at you… We may be celebrating Saturnalia, but it doesn’t mean we lose to the tradition. You should have let me smite his ass back to Pompeii.”

Dean’s laughing all the way to the next street when screams and shouts filled the night air followed by people running away from the epicenter of the commotion. Castiel and Dean both look across the street where they see a group of three drunk Roman soldiers harassing a young woman in blue stolla with a pileus on her head. The tallest of the soldier is pulling her wrist forcibly while the other two reached for her waist. Dean reacts at once—but Cas holds him back with one grip on his shoulder.

“Dammit, Cas!” Dean spins around. He didn’t care if these people were way dead before his time. Didn’t care if they were slaves or not. He was there and he will do something. “Don’t tell me to stay put cause I won’t—”

“Yes, you will.” Castiel says but much to Dean’s chagrin was the angel leaping to his feet and was in front of the tallest of the three men in one sweep—the tip of finger raised as he knocked him out. As the giant collapses on the floor, two more men spring behind the angel but Cas has them both locked on each of his palms, raising his arms lightly as he glared, his blue eyes full of wrath it shone with grace.

Dean gasps together with those who braved enough to watch when Castiel pivots and throws the men on either side of the street like a mad whirlwind. The men’s cries are short as they hit stone pillars. Castiel stomped his feet on the ground it felt like it cracked just to steady himself, the cloak rustling behind him magnificently, exposing his bare shoulders and front. Cas looked up, glaring, the air cracking behind him. With lips crunched, jaw line squared, eyes bluest and on fire when it reflected the torches.

The Angel of the Lord really looks pissed off.

Dean stares at Cas with mouth hanging open.

Because of all the fuckedup things he saw today, men and women naked and lost in the world of depravity, Cas practically smiting Roman soldiers was the only thing that seize something in Dean that made him squirm. A tug on his lower region made the hunter hiss and cursed himself repeatedly.

He’s always been a sucker for badass.

And Cas?

Roman soldiers loitering about for some fun suddenly surrounds him and Dean just know the angel is about to go all out. There’s a brief second glance where his blue eyes begin to glow—Dean sucks air—all soldiers are down in a blink of an eye. Finish even before Dean can get involved. Their eyes meet and Dean gets ten times the feeling of falling head-over-heels at the blue-eyed angel whose messy dark hair and clenched jaw all indicates s_uch badass!_

The angel gives a slight pause, before his eyes fell on the lady on the ground that had been harassed, staring at him with the same thunderstruck expression. Cas reaches a hand toward her in kind.

“Are you okay?” he asks. The woman shrunk on the floor looking frightened.

Cas blinks and presses his lips thin. Dean catches his eyes when the angel looks up but it’s apparent, he only cares about where Dean is because the next thing, Castiel is striding towards Dean in all purpose. Dean holds his breath as he watches the angel approach.

This badass angel is in love with him. It’s making his head dizzy. Fuck his principle, he wants Cas—

_“An angel without wings making a scene this big? If you aren’t the biggest fool.”_

Deep voice rumbles out of nowhere but it’s only Castiel’s innate speed that sees the thunder approach. Next thing, someone is standing in front of Castiel. Someone with wavy brown locks, tall stature and lean body. Dean takes a step forward, wanting to warn Cas—

Castiel tilts his head and his lips form a name but it gets a full mouth in the next second as the new comer fiercely kisses him deeply. Dean would have jumped—his instincts telling him to grab and punch the Titan, but Castiel is not resisting.

This has Dean stay his ground even though he is already seeing red, fist clenching.

The kiss is cut shortly when the Titan raises his head, cheeks burning, eyes wide as it stared at the angel with passion and adoration.

“It’s you…” breaths the Titan in mundane fervor. “You… _the angel who gripped me tight and raised me from perdition.”_

Dean stares hard. The world stops just for a second.

“_Hello, Prometheus.”_ Castiel quietly whispers. Deadpan.

* * *

“You think talking here is safe?” Dean says with a skeptical look around the public spot.

“Nothing safer than a public place with half drunken souls.” Prometheus replies easily with soft eyes falling on Castiel standing right behind him. “And it’s Saturnalia. It doesn’t sit right that we be anywhere else.”

Dean stamps down the revolt slowly rising in his gut as he finds himself at the center of a table in the middle of a large public banquet where the parade has ended. It surprised him to see a great number of tables enough to accommodate an entire city. Rich food and bottles of wine are being passed around, Romans sitting table by table, hopping to their neighbors, dancing, grabbing both food and asses of laughing drunken people. Bottles clink. Feet shuffles. There’s a buzz of excitement and delight around the sunshine of fiery torches in the middle of the night. This is _Saturnalia._

At the center of everything is the wooden statue of Saturn that sits in the middle of the celebration in a reclining chair, seemingly watching the feast with encouragement.

But Dean is no longer distracted by the public display of mouth suckers. His attention is properly taken, thank you very much, by none other than the Ken-doll he’d met in the future past— which sounds ridiculous but not all together impossible. Not for this Winchester anyway. He eyes the guy with obvious challenge. Frankly, Dean has never thought he’d disliked anyone that pretty but he’s met some demons and angels so.

Same face, same brown curls, same sharp jaw and deep blue eyes—there is no mistake. The creation from gods themselves— no words can define his existence. And the fact that he’s just been tongue deep in Castiel has all Dean’s attention alright. Castiel who Dean has purposely pulled on his side and crowded on the bench opposite the Titan as they slipped and occupied the last empty spot near a dark alley where they can slip in case trouble catches to them. Cas who’s giving the hunter a curious look, their bare shoulders pressed.

_“Castiel.”_ Prometheus purrs. “I am so glad to see you. Here, of all places.”

Castiel takes time to pull his eyes from Dean who simply stares haughtily at the god with both elbows firmly planted on the table. He thinks he may be leaning a little too aggressively on the table, but that’s the point. He sees Prometheus glance his way a little too curiously too as Cas finally looks at him.

“I feel the same, you don’t know how glad I am, Prometheus. How long has it been?”

“Like eternity. And that’s speaking from someone immortal such as me. I’ve missed you.”

Castiel blinks and Dean suffers wordlessly as he watches Castiel and his not-so-new-companion basically drown in meaningful smiles as the Titan leans eagerly on the table. If the table hadn’t been there, Dean is sure Prometheus would have crossed the distance between them again in and take everything his mouth can claim.

Dean flushes. He suddenly wants to do many things at once. First to gank the Titan for those dumb heart eyes and gleeful expression like he’s just found all the reasons in the world. He can only stay his ground because Cas has placed his hand on his thigh, making Dean glance in his direction but Castiel is not looking at him.

“Considering, I suppose, it’s been a half a millennium since I opened the mountain to get you out, the sentiment is understandable.” Cas nods.

“I hope you are not remembering the moment I was quite arrogant even though you had saved me from that hellish rock—”

_“Arrogant_ is the right word.” Cas smiles—he actually smiles with that quirk of his chapped lips siding up and glint in his blue eyes looking fond. Prometheus shoots him a smile back, looking embarrassed. Dean uncomfortable shifts where he sits, wondering between saying something sarcastically or completely rebuking both, but the acid flare he feels forming in his guts clamps his mouth shut.

“I had been stuck there for a very long time. It did not do well on my shattered ego and mistrust after being betrayed by my own father.”

“That I understand.” Now Cas relaxes at the gaze he is receiving from the Titan, like it’s an old thing. Like falling into a piece of puzzle that fits exactly as is. Dean has never seen him that comfortable. Prometheus is the sole receiver of what Dean thought is an exclusive eyefucking between him and the angel.

_Do they really have history…?_

“Castiel.” Prometheus calls with a smile again, “The stars are behind this meeting. They recline us rightfully towards each other’s path and for a reason. I do look forward to the ends meet. But pray…I cannot help but notice that you… have changed a lot, even in your true form, I’m sure I would have noticed the difference.” He inclines his head, a kind of tilt that Cas often does and it irks Dean more than he cares to admit. _But the dude has seen Cas’ true form?_ Something Dean will never have the privilege… he laments the idea for the first time.

Castiel lightly nods. “A lot of things have happened since then. Even angels change in the course of time.”

“Not angels, not since you left me in the dust without even a goodbye.” Prometheus grins at the memory, “You were so uptight, I didn’t know how to get around you. But you do look more mellow now and… I don’t know how to word this but… _brighter and warmer_ than before. Yet never less angelic despite the damage on your wings… What happened to your beautiful wings, Castiel?” there is a sound of indignity in his tone. Dean sees the blue eyes of the Titan blink in his direction.

That plummets the anger in Dean as he blinks and bites his lower lip.

He’s never seen Cas’ wings like the gods or the angels do so he doesn’t… he doesn’t really know what it looks like. Hasn’t even asked Cas if he’s missed it or if it pained him when he fell.

“It’s fine. It was of my own volition and doing.”

“You are still beautiful.” Prometheus can hardly keep his eyes away from the angel. In fact, he can hardly contain his infatuation at all and Dean is sure if the table isn’t there, Prometheus will be all over Cas by now. Turns out—Castiel doesn’t mind. He just gives a quick side smile.

That seems enough for Prometheus. Dean can’t blame him. Cas fucking smiles like the sun.

“As I have said—and will never cease to point out my lucky star— to meet you here is truly unexpected, Castiel.” Prometheus starts warmly again. “Not in the Forum Romanum—in the middle of Saturnalia! The last time we met was eons when you bid me farewell to return to your duties after escorting me to the free world. I was just as lost then when you freed me from my father’s captivity. Truly, this is fate that binds us, is it not, my angel?”

“Fate is a broad term.” Cas replies, distracted by the low grumble on Dean’s part, “It has been awhile and I am glad you still feel warmly about me.”

“You saved me, Castiel. I will offer my life to you if you ask of it.”

“I don’t think there’s any need for that.”

“I want to.” Is the eager response.

Something slices inside Dean’s chest that doesn’t have anything to do with hunger. He trains his green eyes hard on the Titan, his back falling on his chair with too much force, his legs hitting the bench with a loud thud which shatters the dream as Prometheus’ sky-blue eyes falls on Dean as if only realizing he is there. Castiel turns at him, concern gracing his beautiful features as the angel leans down the table beside the hunter.

“Dean?”

Castiel calling his name in the same gentle tone ebbed away some of the hunter’s rapidly increasing anger. He grits his teeth, trying to keep calm before looking up and still glaring at the Titan. Prometheus is looking from him to Cas with a questioning stare.

“Oh, don’t mind me. Just a third wheel and all.” Dean injects, tilting his chin, his strained fingers clasping each other. “Just tell me when I get in the way, alright?”

“You’re not and you won’t.” Cas frowns his way.

“Kinda feel like I am.” Dean brusquely replies, glancing at Castiel. He doesn’t know what, but the angel must’ve seen something in his green eyes because Castiel tenses and is suddenly all attention.

“Dean?”

Dean ignores him, finally finding Prometheus also fixing him equal attention. The hunter shoves down any unfriendliness but he’s always been an open book. He extends an arm to shake the Titan’s hand before he changes his mind. _Manners maketh man_, yeah?

“Dean Winchester.”

Prometheus just stares at his hand and after a full minute, Dean has to clench his fist back. Apparently, shoving your tongue deep in someone’s throat is considered the only greeting here.

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Prometheus starts when Dean raises both eyebrows. “But _what are you?” _His curious eyes flicker from Dean’s face down to his exposed anti-possession tattoo.

That catches Dean. He knows what the Titan must be seeing.

“I’m a hunter.”

“Hunter…? Of what particular—?”

“Want me honest? People like you.”

“Dean.” He hears Castiel calls beside him but the hunter is too busy giving Prometheus a once-over like it’s the first time he’s laid eyes on him. The Titan doesn’t back down, but the wonder in his eyes is so obvious, it is making Dean frown deeper.

He doesn’t care if this god and Castiel has some past— but if Prometheus keeps on giving Castiel that look like he’s a smitten teenager, Dean is sure he’ll find time to finally knock him though he isn’t sure where. But it’ll happen. It’s taking all his strength to keep himself from doing it. Stars his ass—_who cares who Cas saved first?_ That’s not a binding element, is it?

“Dean.”

Castiel slips his hand at the tiny space behind Dean’s neck and pulls him in. The gesture has Dean looking at the angel, to find their lips brushing into a full mouth kiss. Waves hit Dean like a stampede and all the coiling lava in his gut are washed down, eased up by the soft lips currently crushing on his own. Castiel is quick in taking over the hunter’s open surprise, leaning in but not totally with measured control, melting Dean when he feels his soft tongue dip in, tasting Dean’s starved ones.

Dean aggressively kisses back when he’s gotten over the shock, own hands sliding on the angel’s stubbled cheeks, jaw rolling as he responds enthusiastically. He’s never felt more than happy to obliged. No. They forget the world around them, sweetness of each other’s presence, Castiel nipping on his lips and chasing him when they start to pull. Dean’s eyes water when he stares back at those baby blues that has managed to catch his eyes away. That’s when Dean’s realized how so much in love he is. How much he is into this. Castiel gives him the same amount of gaze—_no—_Cas has always looked at him like that.

It grounds both of them as they settle back, Dean still in cloud nine, green eyes blown away. Castiel doesn’t let up the sexy eye fuck like they’d never get over it. Light shines in Dean’s eyes and for the first time since they sat there in the middle of the raucous company of Romans and chaotic, handsome gods, Dean feels grounded.

Prometheus clears his throat and Castiel presses a small smile into his lips when Dean doesn’t look away. Cas senses his look and inclines his head on the hunter’s direction again, eyes shining.

“Yeah, profound bond right there.” He says out of nowhere, ears still ringing.

Both Castiel and Prometheus stare at him. Dean does not care how outrageous it sounds he will claim Cas like that. He huffs and raise his chin up in a challenge. Prometheus blinks coolly while Castiel raises an eyebrow and explains patiently to the waiting Titan.

“He means I rescued him from hell.”

“Oh.” Prometheus now looks Dean square in the eye and for the first time, Dean realizes that the god is willingly meeting his challenging look. “Oh? You don’t say? Another rescue mission, Castiel you wonderful angel.” Dean is glad the Titan pauses as if letting the idea sink in. Letting the relationship sink in. If he has any rancor of it, he doesn’t show. But there’s a lesser brightness in his eyes when he turns to the angel.

“I am happy for you, Castiel… although his situation, is this the reason…?” he straightens when both Dean and Castiel frowns. “Oh… I assumed perhaps the reason you’re here is his… no? His eyes flickers on Dean’s tattoo again and at that moment, the hunter understood. Of course. Prometheus is a god. He must see that Dean has been marked as well. Castiel stiffens beside him.

“It’s a development we did not foresee.” the angel admits grimly, “Which of course I need to settle.”

Prometheus sighs heavily. “I do not doubt your intent, Castiel, but to deal with Ares—”

“That’s not why we’re here.” Dean growls with a side look at the angel. He gets where this is going—of the routine round of saving each other and fuck everyone else—the Winchester cycle Cas has adapted over time. Dean decides it’s time to put his foot down. They are not going to zero in on him. They fucking aren’t forgetting the real reason they are here. They can’t afford to get sidetracked. Touching Cas’ arm, Dean lowers his voice because he knows Castiel wouldn’t like it, he goes—

“We have other priorities, Cas, you know that. Not look for trouble with some war god, okay?”

“I disagree.” Castiel grits his teeth.

“No, Cas, listen. This is fine—this mark doesn’t even do anything to me, oaky? But we have a world we need to save— we need to put things in priority—”

“Yes, and I know mine.”

Dean licks his lips and reaches his hand to the angel’s shoulder. He tries again, more patiently, overwhelmed by Cas’ concern but this isn’t really a question.

“Cas, level with me. We gotta concentrate, man! We’ve been here almost three days and we haven’t got a stinking clue how to get that eternal flame! For all we know Sam’s in danger like everyone else! We need to do our job! We’re fucked up when we’re distracted!”

“If by this _distraction_ you mean the brand of another being on your soul then yes, I am fully distracted.” Castiel snaps, features cross.

“Cas.” Dean whines.

“No, Dean. You listen to me. Throwing yourself away will save no lives whatsoever, not like this. Stop thinking there’s even another priority. Don’t even think I’d be able to let you go on some pretense that it means it will save the world. It _won’t._” Castiel replies solemnly. There’s a touch of red on his cheeks, his eyes bright though the rest of his expression is deadpan. Then it cracks to a softer, much affected one as he adds, “I can’t lose you here, Dean.”

Dean can only stare at Cas for a full minute. Castiel rarely expresses his fears, but he does not have any reservation now. The angel also rarely changes his mind once he’s focused into it, and if Cas says this is the thread he will follow, then it shall be it. Nothing can change Cas’ mind once he’s made up himself to believe it. Which for Dean is… surreal. Someone putting him above anything else is surreal. Why is he so adamant when Dean’s just a dick in a flesh? Since when has Dean become so much important than the world?

The answer came to him in that bundle of sparkling blue: _Castiel happened._

“_Eternal Flame?_” Prometheus’ voice draws them both back from the privacy of their thoughts with a look of wonder in his eyes. “And here I was musing of what other reason could possibly bring the commander of heaven down in this abyss of decadence? You aim to get the Eternal flame?” he gives Castiel and Dean a shrewd look. “And I believe… meeting me is not coincidental?”

“Believe me, Prometheus, we wouldn’t have come here if there was another way to save the future of our time.” Cas hastens when the Titan straightens, expression grim. “And also… Prometheus… you are aware that we’re not from this time?”

There is silence where they can only hear the plopping sounds of their horse’s hooves and the faint offkey singing of drunk men on the street singing something about trees and treasures. Castiel watches the Titan god with unblinking eyes while Dean does the same.

Prometheus blinks hard and then nods in assertion.

“Of course. I realized it the moment I saw you. The light you bear is the same, but it is not from this timeline. The old you are greater in power too, but like I told you, I like this version better. You look more ‘human’ and… appealing.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Can’t really stop flirting, can you?”

There is a flash in Prometheus’ blue orbs when he and Dean clashes again.

“It’s different with your ally, Castiel… he is very much a beacon of a man out of his time. Though I do not believe I have met anyone with such strong impression… and to be claimed by one of the most treacherous of the Pantheon… I am surprised you are not at all worried.” He pauses briefly, “Or are you just that foolish?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dean growls.

“I mean Ares does not leave his mark behind without a reason. You should know he will come after you sooner than later—”

“Yeah, right gotta fall in line.” Dean wrinkles his nose and turns to the angel beside him. “I’ve got my hands full on getting laid every night.”

“You do not understand.”

“What I don’t understand is it’s none of your business who I sleep with so _fuck off—”_

“Dean, stop.” Cas snaps but there’s a reassuring squeeze on Dean’s thigh where the angel’s hands rest. Dean gives him a side glance, and then drops his eyes, grumbling. The Titan watch the exchange. Castiel turns to him. “Gabriel sent us back here for one reason which he believed you could help us. I hope he isn’t wrong and that you can help me.”

A smile plays on the Titan’s lips.

“Old Gabriel. How is that lark? Your family is as amusing as I remember.”

“Probably shredded to pieces after his last jump. The place is warded against him, I barely managed to escape without a scratch.” Castiel replies.

“Yes, the Pantheon’s been most wary about him. Archangels to be exact. They are truly powerful beings in equal almost to my brothers. But what is it the you seek? Something that you are even willing to risk your life when you know even your brothers will hunt you down if they find out?”

“You know I wouldn’t have come if I knew I could not count on you.”

Dean blinks at Cas smooth talk—because what the hell _Cas just smooth talked the Titan!_ It makes Dean somewhat feel conflicted because one—he doesn’t want Cas using that to anyone at all with all the suggestion of having firm faith and two—_ he hated the way it worked on Prometheus._

The Titan’s face flushed with unhealthy excitement and he eagerly reaches forward to angel.

“Oh, Castiel, you know I will do everything for you.” He takes Cas hands into his, making Dean send them glares but the two are lost in each other’s eyes. “How can I deny the very being that saved me from my worst predicament where not even my own kin dare defied my father? You alone endangered your life for my sake, Castiel. You freed me from perdition. I will do everything for you. But this you seek…?”

“The Flame.” Cas answers abruptly and with impatience it almost makes Dean smile.

Prometheus stares at the angel for long moments, taking his time staring at the blue but blankness emerged from his own eyes. Cas withdraws his hands away and straightens on where he sits. Dean watches Prometheus’ expression turn from flabbergasted to curios.

“How bad is it?” he asks seriously.

Dean catches Cas looking in his direction quietly, then back to the Titan. His voice low.

_“Ragnarok.”_

The effect is instantaneous. The Titan’s eyes widen, his mouth falls open and there’s a flicker in his eyes that is both dark and sinister. Dean grits his teeth while Prometheus takes in Castiel’s words with his lips closing and thinning into a line.

“It has come to that? They initiate war…?”

“Yes. Dean and I came from the 21st century where god… my father had finally condemned us to eternal darkness. He’s taken the flare of the sun and he’s broken the seal of hell and brought chaos to the living world where the dead now walks. It’s an utter destruction with the sole purpose of destroying humanity. The beginning of an end. The only thing we can think of that can sustain men and keep evil at bay is to return light. God has condemned us, Prometheus. In that regard I do believe that Gabriel is right. With your history, you are the only one who can help us. Please, lend me your powers and I promise you, I will never forget your generosity. I will forever remember this debt.”

Prometheus’ eyes flickers with a hint of solemnity.

“Castiel, you know I have decided the moment you appeared before me that fateful day in the Mountain of Caucasus that I would do everything for you. I even vowed to be yours if not for your own loyalty to heaven. I can lend you the fire if it means returning your home’s sun to, to keep your warm, I’ll do anything to keep you safe.”

“Alright,” Dean cuts in with a roll of his eyes, “where’s the fire?”

Prometheus glances at Dean. “I do not have it.”

Dean snorts derisively and the Titan looks offended.

“Not even an immortal such as myself can keep a powerful tool deep inside the pocket my tunic, _Decanus.”_

“It’s _Dean.” _The hunter grits his teeth.

Prometheus blinks. “You had better learn the roots of your name. Souls have clear tags and you have been marked to burn as a property of the God of War. Soon you will hear his call and once you do—”

“Stop.” Cas shakes his head in warning.

“Don’t stop.” Dean snarls, leaning on the table in attention, “What are you saying? That I’ll become his puppet and do his nasty works?”

“He isn’t as generous as you think.”

“Well, if that means he’ll kill me swift—I don’t think that’s anything to be scared about. You don’t know me. Death’s a little cliché for the likes of me, man.” There's a little to none uncertainty in his tone, even Castiel shoots him a glance, brows furrowed.

“You do not fear death?” Prometheus raises an eyebrow.

“I don’t fear any gods.” Dean makes a point. The Titan surveys him in complete wonder.

_“Enough.” _Castiel’s voice drops like a cold ice, enough to freeze the land. He doesn’t look too happy. “No one’s getting turned into a puppet, and no one’s killing you, Dean. I won’t let anyone or anything touch you again.” Dean internally shivered but the small smile he gave Cas is meaningful.

It is Prometheus who clears his throat.

“I apologize. I was out of line. But the Flame you seek is no longer with me. The Sol Invictus has absorbed it as an offering when I came in this land 500 years ago. He uses it to increase his power to cover and protect the land and embrace the Romans in its warmth for winter solstice. Though, I think you have figured out the place where a remaining essence of it lies. The Sol Invictus granted a portion of it to the to the virgin temple that houses the Vestasd Flame to honor Saturn.”

_“Sol who?”_ Dean grimaces. “We speaking of your half-brother?”

“No.” Cas quipped. “_Dies Natalis Solis Invicti._ The birth of Sol Invictus, a Mithra or the god of the Unconquerable Sun. In Syrian translation it means ‘_light between heaven and earth’_. A Sun god in the middle of winter is important for these people, Dean. They fear the longer days of darkness during winter. But the Mithra is not Jesus. Religions mostly absorbs customs and traditions from pre-existing pagan winter festivals and used this popular festival to tame the Pagans and the immoral acts into something acceptable into the society.”

“But—” Dean stammered now. Not for nothing, but Bobby did make him read the whole bible cover to cover and this was like a blow to his reviewer. “You mean your religion invented Christmas out of this sex dome? Dude, you’re basically telling me like Batman is the alter ego and not Bruce Wayne.”

“No.” Cas frowns, “No batman, Dean. But I assure you, it is not the messiah. He is a messenger of our Father that took a corporal form in the era where humans needed to be reminded of the presence of god. A savior of humans and that’s his very being. He served his purpose in leading humanity into good will and not their destruction because everyone knows you humans tend to self-destruct without guidance.”

“The very reason I needed to pull strings and send you knowledge and the Fire.” Prometheus is giving Dean an amused look. “It was painful to watch your slow progress from the moment of creation, struggling to survive, dying every second.”

“Yeah, thanks for the chance.” Dean’s eyes flicker to the Titan, “You know us, always poetic with out struggles. But help me outta here— this sun god of yours— does it mean Chuck killed him when he snapped the lights out?”

Castiel and Prometheus exchange looks and Dean didn’t like the way they know each other mutually. Like they share something Dean will never have with Castiel. Was it immortality? Power? Being able to see the beginning of times? He doesn’t know. But Dean sure is certain he doesn’t like the connection. Especially how synchronized they are with motions. He stamps down the burning jealousy. He doesn’t need to be a kid now—he can’t always be the reason Cas fails in his missions, no. _Bear with it._

“He could have ended the Mithra.” Cas amends, “Or he could have shut him away like he did with his sister. The Sol Invictus only represents the sun’s energy, but like most pagan gods, he’s only as powerful with the number of his worshippers. Worshippers of the Mithra declined in the present time when Christianity took over and you progressed. In ancient time, the Mithra is well revered and celebrated during the 25th. You are aware of Saturnalia, which means you are aware that when Christianity came, it saw to the popular celebration and entangled the arrival of the savior on the same date to make it easy for the pagans to accept the religion. With promises of keeping the same celebration, the Christians eradicated all the corrupt practices and instill Christmas as what you know now. A celebration for family.”

“A big fat lie on your bible, huh?” the hunter raises an eyebrow, “who says everything written in it isn’t the same.”

“Well, _writers lie.”_ Cas remarks with piercing blue eyes on the man. “But whatever lie they come up with, it doesn’t change the rest of the truth. There is Heaven and Hell. There are angels and demons. There are gods—”

“Freakin supernatural.” Dean quips with a smirk but as fast as it came, it melts down the next moment upon seeing Cas solemn expression. “You’re thinking we need to sneak back to that temple? Kinda makes us couple of assess trying to get into a girl’s dormitory without permission.”

“Yes.”

Dean falls silent. He should’ve just let Cas take the fire then and do the job. They could be on their own time by now and deal with the present time with Sam. Dean bites his lower lip. He shouldn’t have gotten on the way. Like how he’s getting in Cas’ mission now.

“We just have to get it, right?” he says, feeling the bitter taste of his actions. The two glances in the hunter’s direction and he looks them straight in the eyes. The Titan responds.

“Yes.”

Dean eyes Prometheus. He doesn’t like the way he’s easily given the answer with that meaningful look, like there’s a catch. Fuck it, there’s always a catch.

“What?” he spits to cover the apprehension in his voice. Castiel too is frowning at the Titan.

“No man is allowed to enter the Temple of the Vestas. It is considered a sacrilege and once the Eternal Flame is taken, Romans believe it will cause tribulation in the country. They believed that as long as Vesta’s sacred fire burned in her temple, the Roman way of life would go on. To keep this, they selected six young maidens to safeguard the Eternal Flame. The temple is the most guarded place in all Rome as even the Emperor regard the fire with respect, if not fear.”

“A god afraid of six maidens?” Dean can’t help smirking.

Prometheus’ sky-blue eyes lingered at the hunter and Dean remembers the times he spoke to these Prometheus but with his memories jarred. The Prometheus that died saving his son.

“To take the Fire is a simple feat. What comes after it for the guardians, however, will have bearings… six heads of the innocent surely would do you a number too.”

“Wait—what are you saying?” Dean blinks, “You mean those young girls will—”

“Get killed, yes.”

The hunter pauses. “Why not just exchange it with another fire—?”

“An Eternal Flame is called such a name for a reason. I’m sure anyone would notice the difference sooner. The powerful flames can warm an entire radius where as a simple fire can barely heat up a whole temple. As I said, I can get you the Fire. But only bear in mind its consequences for the maidens.”

Silence falls in the middle of the table.

“Is there another way?” Cas says when Dean shoots him a quick look almost too intense to bear.

“Of course.” Prometheus says after a second, “But it is too dangerous even I would not recommend it.”

“Yeah, hang on that.” Dean points across the table, “If Cas is going to be in any danger, then we’re out.”

_“Dean.”_ Cas reaches out a hand on Dean’s and pulls it down. He looks back at the Titan with a deadpan expression. “What’s the other way?”

Prometheus doesn’t bat an eyelid.

_“We kill the Sol Invictus.”_

_ _


	9. When in Rome, Do as Romans Do

_ ** ** _

_ **Quando in Roma, fa come i Romani ** _

* * *

Dean stands by the mouth of the banquet entrance, glowering at Castiel and Prometheus as the two stand a little far from him at the side of the street. It’s already past midnight when they decided to part ways. The Titan has insisted to give them shelter but Dean won’t have it. He can let Prometheus give Castiel heart eyes and smiles for the sake of their history together, but practically shoving Cas in his direction is something Dean isn’t willing to do just yet.

Not unless Cas decides he doesn’t need Dean. Something bitter coils in his stomach but he ignored it with clenching of his fist. Between gods, angels and humans, Dean knows exactly where he stands. He watches with careful scrutiny how Cas interacts natural with the god. Like they’ve known each other all his life. Like the Titan doesn’t find Castiel too intimidating as what other supernatural being usually find him, nor too awkward as other humans do.

They are very _very friendly._ Dean glares away but the tinkle of Cas’ sudden chuckle pulls him back. He sees Prometheus smiling adoringly at the angel who shakes his head. Great, now he’s feeling like a third wheel again. Who’d think there’s nothing between those two when the Titan is plain obvious? He and Cas… they look perfect for each other.

Dean kicks the ground he stands, wanting nothing but to get in between the two, but he doesn’t. God or not, the dude’s Cas’ friend. The only time Dean will be an asshole to a friend of Castiel’s is when they are angel dicks or actually plans to harm Cas. This one doesn’t. This one looks at Castiel like he’s the center of the universe. Who can blame him? Under that hot meatsuit, the real form of Castiel must be… _inexplicable._

Something Dean will never see in his lifetime. That added another weight in his already decreasing self-esteem. It makes him sulk further and throw glares at the singing troupe in the middle of the banquet singing at the top of their lungs.

From that distance, he can hear Prometheus concern voice.

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay in my villa, Castiel? I will gladly open my house for you—”

“It’s okay, Dean wants to stay in one of the insulas in the market for better view of the temple.”

Whatever else Cas says, Dean has no means to understand as roar of laughter erupted from the public banquet. He throws a curious look at the crowd and finds a weird looking guy wearing a red cape, pointing at people mockingly with a gold crown on his head. Dean frowns but turns his attention back at the angel and the Titan. There’s a brief serious exchange between the two that Dean wants to break how their heads huddled together. But his expression turns livid when he sees Prometheus positively beaming at what the angel said.

Dean drops his eyes on the ground, chewing his cheek. If he can melt stone with his eyes, he might’ve, the way his interest on the rock is intense. He kicks it away and watches it roll across the street. A jot in his gut tells him someone’s watching him so he looks up. Castiel is staring at him.

Dean returns the favor, eyes burning, sending Cas his heated desire to be together. He imagines kissing those lush pink lips. He imagines running his hands on those bare shoulders. Dean’s eyes wander down to Cas’ thighs and before he could stop himself, he licks his lip and meet Cas’ eyes.

That’s when he sees it, no matter how small, he can always see it. A shift on the angel’s ever deadpan expression. His whole attention now on Dean. Prometheus tries to engage him again but Dean’s sure even when he looks away, he knows Cas is watching him.

Crossing his arms, Dean tries to focus on the dancing shadows on the wall. There is no step in their light springs, nor are there coordination in their long limbs, but what gets his attention is a deep, echoing sound of stomping hooves on the ground. At first, he thought there are horses being brought along the banquet, but when the stomping retains its balance rhythm of never going away, Dean straightens and looks to his left. Only concrete wall is there. He turns to his right distractedly but only the long streets of the capitol extending and disappearing in loops of alleys meet his green eyes. He chances a look behind him, almost aiming to see the beast but nothing. He can only see Romans.

And still, the beating of hooves goes on. _What the—?_

“Dean?” Warm hand touches his elbow and he snap in attention. He finds Castiel already beside him, shower of concern in his ever deep blue. It’s impossible to look away even when his neck is arranging for him to look the other way. He gets stuck staring down at Cas blankly.

“Dean.” Cas says more firmly, stepping on the hunter’s space, gripping his arm, “What’s the matter?”

Dean blinks and looks up to find Prometheus climbing up an old-fashioned chariot with golden writings on the door. The chariot is pulled by two brown horses. Dean finds himself exhaling when he doesn’t remember holding his breath. It annoys him when his tongue won’t get unstuck from the roof of his mouth. If Cas isn’t here beside him, Dean would have grabbed the nearest weapon to calm himself. His hunter instinct just passed on a very dangerous threat that still crawls on his skin.

“You’re cold.” Cas whispers, his hands cupping Dean’s cheeks. Dean didn’t mean to close his eyes, but Jesus, Cas’ warm hands feel like heaven. He winds his palms on Castiel’s shoulder to steady himself. The angel’s husky voice brought him back to Ancient Rome. “Dean…?”

“It’s nothing.” Dean raises his eyes to Prometheus’ disappearing chariot. “Just… thought I heard something.”

Castiel stands in attention and his hold on Dean’s arm tightens.

“What is it?”

“I don’t know… just… horses.” His green eyes go up before he can stop himself. He can’t help it, his heart is hammering. What the hell happened? When he gets a better grip of himself, he looks down at Cas and chuckles, “You’d think I’m afraid of some gettin my ass kicked by some god’s horse or something?”

Cas observes him closely but didn’t return his humor. Instead, he wraps his arm around Dean’s waist and tugs him closer like Dean’s drunk who can’t carry himself.

“What are you—”

“Walk.” Cas orders him. Dean does as he is told, but the curious expression he gives the angel did not leave his face. They walk in silence, Dean still trying to muster his erratic heartbeat. He didn’t fight against Castiel’s tight hold because it’s the only thing keeping him warm and steady. They walk a bit further than Dean expected. They entered the market with lesser people but the singing is ongoing while still glued next to each other. By then Dean’s already fully recovered his spine and is struggling out of Cas—

“Keep still.” Is the terse reply.

“I’m not injured, Cas. This looks weird.” Not any weirder than those kissing under the pagan celebration but Cas gets the hint. He doesn’t let go.

“If your manly ego can’t handle it, I’d gladly carry you legs and shoulders on my arms.”

“Ya mean like bridal style?” the fun has returned in his eyes and he’s feeling a little flush at being so close to the angel. His jaw keeps grazing Cas ear every time he turns.

“Do you have a preference?”

“Only if its some pretty, dark haired, hot blue-eyed date, yeah. I’ll even jump in his arms, straight to his bed.” Dean grins, all tension disappearing in his body, leaving him only with warmth. All he feels is warmth next to Cas.

“Aren’t you lucky? I’m planning to take home this gorgeous green-eyed human who won’t stop giving me his adorable smile, I’m afraid we won’t make it to the closest building cause I’m just going to get him on the ground and abuse him.”

Dean’s ears went hot. Hearing Cas in his deep baritone flirt with him is giving him some incredible feelings. The tunic isn’t any help hiding anyone’s erection, but Dean still finds himself blushing.

“Fuck, Cas. You know how to foreplay, dude?”

“Learned it from the expert.” The angel drawls.

“We’re both going to get lucky tonight, then? In our first Saturnalia?”

“I mean to. Not after the way you looked at me just a while ago. If I wasn’t standing three feet away with a Titan, I would have done things to you right there and then, Dean.”

“Yeah? But you didn’t tell me your ex-boyfriend’s hot.”

“Ex?” Cas’ head whirls in his direction. He frowns deeper. “Prometheus is nothing like that, Dean. He isn’t a romantic partner for me. It has never crossed my mind. Besides, angels were prohibited to contract any kind of relationship even with the Old Gods. We consider it blasphemy to even think about it, like making deals with demons.”

“You think of old gods like demons?” Dean is pleased but he tries to hide his relief, “What about me, then? Them angels must be cursing my name ever since I plucked you out from upstairs.” There’s a change in his tone, remembering how Cas has fallen in every way because of him. How angels believed that. Dean is guilty of it, but he’d never regret meeting Cas. Not like this.

“They do say a lot, but you are quite special, Dean. I’d fall for you anyway.” Cas says simply.

Dean stumbles for some reason but Cas is there to catch him. He nearly kicks himself for the ridiculous chick flicks sequence, but finding Castiel with arms wrap around him, Dean doesn’t think it’s too ridiculous at all.

“You’ve fallen for me, Cas?” he chuckles blandly. “You like me a lot?”

Castiel is intrigued at the smile, Dean can see that in the way the angel tilts his head in amusement. He focuses on Dean’s lips, then his eyes, the wrinkles on the corner of his eyes appearing.

“I don’t think that’s a fair question, Dean.”

“Why not? You want me to—”

“I can’t possibly measure up in words exactly what I feel for you. Like you a lot? It’s not even close.” Cas gets this lost look in his eyes, “I can tell you it’s really profound though.”

Dean laughs the nerves that catches him. What the hells wrong with him? For a second there he thought Cas is actually proposing! He shakes his head. He needs a beer.

“Profound, my ass! You got another hot ass dude saved from perdition before mine! You think I’d believe your infidelity?”

“Infidelity suggests the other party actually is interested in the act.”

“But you really saved him? Like from perdition. Like me.” Dean drawls like it doesn’t matter even when it does. What makes their relationship unique was Castiel pulling him from perdition some ten years ago or more. Dean has enjoyed the privilege to be Castiel’s bitch and vice-versa since then. Suddenly finding someone on equal par and title, plus it’s a fucking god has Dean’s inner alpha sniffing the air for combat. Cas picks on the tone and turns curiously at the hunter.

“You are not really thinking…?”

“I’m not thinking. I’m just saying the possibility—”

“I saved him because Prometheus is _kind. _He has sympathy for humans even when they did nothing for him in return. They did not even know it’s his will that got them the knowledge and use of fire. He got punished for trying to do what’s just and that… that moved me, I suppose.”

“You just have real weakness for dudes like that, don’t you?” Dean rubs a hand at the back of his neck as they begin walking at the opposite direction of the rowdy banquet.

“I do have preference for kind and selfless beings.”

“Well, didn’t you just pull the shortest straw out of many.” Dean avoids looking at the angel and keeps his eyes forward to where he can see the bright torches lighting their way. “I mean—you could have a god, Cas, and I wouldn’t blame you—”

“Dean.”

“Really, Cas.” Dean is speaking too fast now, his face grim, “I’m no good. In comparison to a _Prometheus—hero of humanity—_compare to that I’m nothing, alright? I’m just an ordinary human with a package of bad luck! It didn’t even take two seconds before a bad mojo’s put on me the moment I stepped here—”

Soft palm touches his cheek, but the way he’s suddenly yanked down to face Castiel’s everlasting blue eyes is aggressive. He finds Castiel giving him a stern look.

“Why would you compare yourself to a god, Dean? You are a human.”

“Yeah?” Dean doesn’t sound convinced. “Tell me I’m way better—”

Castiel pulls him down harder, their noses touching. Angry flares are on the angel’s eyes.

“Because you are. Dean, there’s no one that can even be compared to you. You… you shine brighter every time I look at you. I don’t know why you can’t see how wonderful of a human you are—you save lives, you take care of the world, you—you're basically the real hero the world needs! You cannot compare yourself to anyone because you’re… you’re _Dean._ You’re my _Dean._ And it doesn’t matter how many I save from perdition only because. I will choose you. I will always choose you. And to be honest, I do think you’re… in your human term “_hotter”._ Prometheus is only a friend, but you are my special friend.”

Dean’s eyes perk up and there’s a quirk at the corner of his mouth. He finds his arms easily wrapping around the angel and realizes how he’s been dying to do it. “You think I’m hot?”

“I think you’re beautiful.”

“Shucks, you sure know how to make a guy’s heart flutter. Who taught you that?”

“Your heart does not need me to make its routine rhythmic function. Are you still jealous?”

Dean stares in those eyes and then nodded. He doesn’t care. Cas knows anyway.

“Point of clarity—I don’t just fall for anyone. Just Dean Winchester.”

“You’re flirting with me, mister. Keep doin that and I might kiss you.”

“Do.”

Dean feels his heart swell and before he can stop himself, he’s kissing Castiel’s lips. They stop in a corner, Dean pinning the angel on the wall, right elbow leaning on the flat concrete wall while Cas watches him with his back press on the wall. Dean smiles slightly at Castiel’s attention, his blue eyes following the movement of his lips expectantly.

“What are you thinking, Dean?”

“I’m thinking I might court you.”

Castiel tilts his head in confusion. “Why do you think there’s a need to?”

“I just wanna. Cause you deserved it. I wanna take you to dates, Cas. Make you smile a lot. Not this kind of history date where we both know who’s gonna get struck by lightning.”

“I won’t let you get struck by lightning.” Cas frowns.

“I know.” Dean smiles, “I just want to make you happy, Cas.”

Castiel grabs at Dean’s neck and kisses him fully on the lips. Dean enjoys the softness of Cas’ chapped ones, nipping at them bit by bit, before fully suckling, teeth grazing all over his jaw.

“You’re already made me happy with this… with us…”

Dean quirks his eyebrows. They kiss again. After a while, he pulls back. “I’m hungry.”

“Because you did not eat properly in the banquet— _oh.”_ Cas’ breathe hitches when he feels Dean’s hand slide down the band of his tunic, to the end of his clothes and caress his legs. He gets the hint. “Oh, you mean…”

Dean slides down and takes Castiel’s cock full in his mouth. Castiel yelps, but he presses it down as his body backs on the wall. Dean feels Cas’ finger shoot down his hair, moaning. He likes the sound Cas is making, from surprise to panic, to aroused. He kneels there, blowing the angel when in million years he’d never thought he could. It’s only to this day that he realizes how much they just fit together. How much he needs Cas. How much he wants this.

He sucks hard. Cas gasps above him, hips squirming as he avoids fucking in Dean’s mouth who licked and sucks from the head to the hilt, cupping the angel’s balls and swallowing them one by one.

“Dean…” Castiel groans in pleasure, encouraged as he thrusts his hips in Dean’s mouth. He comes. Dean stands up, kissing Castiel’s open mouth, shoving his tongue deep inside him. Cas responds, the hunter’s hand fixing the angel’s blue tunic and patting it down then pulls away.

Castiel frowns at him. Dean smirks.

“When in Rome, Cas.”

The hunter turns to the street, enough to hear Castiel mutter behind him.

"When in Rome, what, Dean?”

* * *

“This is not funny, Dean—” Cas chides, not catching his drift as the hunter crosses the crowded street like a drunkard, sprinting after one torch to another, brushing and colliding shoulders with other drunken Roman celebrating. It’s already the middle of the night and they are still hunting for the insula Cas saw earlier which he thinks is closer to the temples.

“But why not have fun? I thought it’s Christmas?” Dean snickers, feeling elated, his smiling face catching Castiel who follows him from the crowd in concern. “Isn’t that the purpose? Have fun?”

“You can get hurt swaying like that.” Cas observes, “Besides, we’re in the area where people might recognize us from earlier. There are still demons around, Dean, I can’t see them now but I feel their presence. I don’t want them getting the upper hand because of our carelessness.”

“Cas, how is this different from them spotting you? A full angel tank? How is that different from spotting me? Your Titan buddy just told us I’m reeking with the son of a bitch’s uh…it’s gross.”

“Prometheus didn’t say that.”

“He’s as good as did, I’m not stupid, Cas.”

“I know. You’re the best hunter I’ve known my entire existence, Dean. You’re not stupid for me.”

Dean smiles and the angel blinks.

Cas falls silent at that and Dean attempts again to lighten the mood by reaching out and clapping the angel’s broad shoulder. His palm slaps on Cas’ skin and Dean nearly forgot how they are both in sleeveless tunics. Yes, he is feeling quite naked in comparison to his usual flannels but his stays his hand possessively around the angel as they walk side by side.

Castiel’s glare only amused Dean for some reason. He can understand the angel’s concern, but Dean wasn’t going to stand around while Cas exposes himself to _men and gods._ Dean has been dealing with demons all his life. Men and gods? They are much handful when on the evil side.

“Stop thinking I’m the only one hot in their eyes for now, you’re a beacon here too. We’re both screwed and the first thing we should address is what we’re going to do next, buddy? Uh… what? What did your Prometheus explain about uhh… Soul… soul—”

“Sol Invictus.”

“Yeah, that dude. So what, we just gonna gank him? That’s a sun god, Cas.”

“You don’t seem disturb in killing everything else like Death, perhaps?”

“Yeah, but this dude’s the god of the friggin sun. What if going back to this day, the reason Chuck easily took the sun away is cuz this dude’s gone? I mean—I’m a firm believer of time twisting since Zachariah brought me to another time zone—”

“Pagan gods only utilize the power related to their innate capabilities in nature, but the sun does not belong to anyone, Dean. Mostly, this Mithra is created through people’s _faith._ A mass of people believing in something so passionately at the same time… it creates… _it creates miracles.”_

They share a silent look, mostly Dean lost in the angel’s gaze. _Miracles… huh?_

“We have to wait till the 25th before he appears on his own in this land to bestow light to his worshippers. It’s only the beginning of Saturnalia—”

“Eight days.” Dean murmurs, counting. Eight days and it’s show time. “Tell me we’re not… we’re not sacrificing them no matter how it seems like the world is weighing than them, we don’t do that, Cas.” His voice shook a little. “Please?”

Cas fixes him a long thoughtful look, before nodding.

“Of course, Dean.”

Dean lets out a sigh. “But I don’t want you in danger also. Too much selfishness right inside this body—you sure you wanna still get the whole package?”

“The whole package is the deal, I don’t intend to leave anything behind.” Grumbles the angel, “Besides, I like everything about the package. Even the hard parts.” He pulls Dean in front of him, their hips grinding.

“You cheat.” Dean chuckles, kissing him lightly.

Soon they find the spot. Castiel handled the transaction, much to Dean’s surprise because everyone knows Castiel’s not that proficient with communicating with human. It seems limited to modern people only though. Soon, he and Dean are being lead inside a wide space of masonry. A complex in the middle of a large building where what seems to be a lounge can be found. They take the short stairs. Dean takes Cas’ hand quietly as they climb the stairs. Weird enough, it’s like a village inside the insula. That’s Roman structure for you, thinks Dean who follows Cas this time. He looks left and right and all he can think about is a den. Step by step, people occupy different rooms with not even a door to separate or keep their business private. Once or twice—actually many times—Dean catches couples _coupling._

There are strange smokes billowing from other room, but it’s lucky their room is at the top tier. Cas makes specific order on this so they can see the Forum Romanum at close proximity. The corridor leading to the top floor is empty, much to Dean’s relief. He doesn’t want to spend his nights with Cas with other people breathing in orgasm in the next room.

At least their room—small it may seem with a single bed he and Cas can do something about on the far corner, a small marble table, three chairs and then a curtained balcony. Dean sits at the edge of the bed while Cas talk to the owner.

The moment they are left alone, Dean looks up sharply.

“We’re not sacrificing any virgins.”

Cas, who is inspecting the open balcony, looks at him with a raised eyebrow.

“Okay, Dean.”

“Right. Then we just gotta think of a way to get back home after this long eight days and after we kill the sun god. No biggie..” Dean clasps his hands together. He watches Cas saunter towards him in that blue tunic and his grin widens. “Days being stuck here with you here doesn’t seem too bad…I don’t think.”

Cas nods as he stops quietly slips between the legs of the hunter, eyes looking down, too focused. Dean thinks he’ll melt at those eyes. He silently reaches both palms on Cas’ hips, inviting him closer till his chin is resting on the angel’s navel. Castiel places both hands on his shoulder, sliding at the back of his neck and carding his hair. Dean closes his eyes and sighs.

They stay still, basking in each other’s company. Suddenly, being in a four-corner wall is more arousing, what with Castiel looking so divine in that blue tunic with glinting eyes as he feasts on Dean. The hunter smiles as he gently places a kiss on Cas’ stomach. Pulling up, arms wrapping around Castiel’s ass, he pulls him closer.

“Why d’you pull one on me in front of your ex?” he asks.

“What?” Cas strokes his hair quietly.

“Kiss. You kissed me right in front of your old friend. You know he’s got a bad crush on you. Why’d you do it?”

Castiel’s right hand slides on Dean’s cheek, his thumb caressing the hunter’s bottom lip. There’s a dark look in his eyes as he follows the movement of his finger.

“He is not my ex, he is somebody I saved and that’s all there is.” He leans down and pecks a kiss on the man. Dean enjoys the familiar touch of the angel’s stubble then pulls up. “Second, you’re just that desirable. Every time you are near, keep in mind I always want to hold you, Dean. And at that time, it seems like a waste not to do it when you’re too beautiful under stress.”

“I wasn’t.” Dean mutters, feeling the angel leaning closer, both his hands now holding his neck, aiming for light brushes of their lips. “You think he took it bad when you kissed me? Prometheus? You think your Titan boyfriend will help us out?” he meant to tease Cas about it, meant to make it sound like a joke. It comes out

“You are the boyfriend as far as I’m concerned.”

“Not how he seems to understand it.” Dean looks up.

“I apologize, Dean.”

“For what?”

“Making you… uncomfortable. I feel you didn’t like him.”

“Guess I’m feelin’ just a little possessive, but it’s nothin, really.” Dean tries to look away but the angel holds his chin, asking Dean to tell him everything. “Really, Cas. You guys are buddy. I’m not an asshole who gets crazy because my babe gets a little friendly with others but uh… try to avoid the kissing part? Yeah, nearly punched a Titan—but I don’t want to be uhh—don’t want you angry with me… but it sucks watching you getting kissed like that.”

Cas nods sincerely. “I’m sorry.”

“Not your fault I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not—Dean—” The angel shakes his head. “However, I would advise against punching Prometheus. He’s body is basically like made to be impenetrable.”

“So, it’s not gonna be a problem between us if I do?”

“Please don’t. You’ll hurt yourself.”

“But I can if he does it again?” Dean sounds hopeful.

“Oh, Dean.”

“I know, Cas, okay? I’m getting better at controlling my anger, see? Didn’t want to send you away again. I’ve had enough of projecting on you… I just… just want to take care of what we have between us, alright?”

Dean pauses, eyes blinking. What they have between… them?

Castiel’s blue eyes flickers. The kiss he plants on Dean’s lip is so heavy, wet and thrusting his tongue like he cant get enough taste of Dean's mouth. Dean emerges breathing hard after a full minute, ears red, cheeks flush as he breaths deep in the angel’s eyes.

That. Was fucking hot he can feel his tongue numbing. Castiel cards hisbhair then pulls him in. For a moment, Dean thought he'll get kissed again, but Cas seems to have a better idea.

“I wanna ride you.” Murmurs the angel that hits Dean straight in his cock.

He reaches for Castiel for another long kiss. H maneuvers their bodies as he pulls the angel down the bed, rolling so Cas is lying on the bed flat on his back. Dean on top of him, leaning on his elbow, lips locked with the angel. Castiel willingly letting his own lips be devoured, letting Dean take.

“Can I?” Dean whisper quietly, his eyes dark. He wants to ask permission. He will always ask for permission because the last time he did this to Cas, he just took him. He doesn’t want Cas to feel threatened about their physical intimacy. He wants Cas to know he will always have a choice.

“Yes.” Cas kisses him back and inhales when Dean closes his palms on his cock. It’s half hard and Dean needs little persuasion. He knows Castiel is aroused seconds after his initial jacking off. His cock hardens quick, responding to the intense strokes the hunter is administering.

“Still want to ride me?” Dean whispers, leaning on his elbow, allowing his green eyes to take in Cas’ pleasured expression.

The angel hums, his own free hands caressing Dean’s front, latching his palms on the hunter’s middle, before taking Dean’s cock in his hands. Dean smiles and leans to kiss him. Time went by as they exchange hot kisses and strokes, thumbing each other’s precums and spreading it to the pulsating length.

Dean’s the one who goes wild after a couple of minutes, pushing Castiel flat on the bed as he slips on top of his legs. Cas cock jangles on his stomach, fully erected and Dean swallows him whole, deep throat and sucking hard. The bulge in his mouth is fulfilling as he bobs his head up and down. He feels Cas chase his mouth every time he pulls up so he settles a palm on the angel’s stomach. He sucks the tip of Cas’ cock, licking the side of the hardened length until Cas looks like he’s about to burst. Dean sits up, smiling when Castiel groans at the lost contact, arms flailing on his eyes to cover his wet eyes.

“Dean.” He warns when the hunter strokes him lightly.

“Don’t come yet.” The hunter growls, aroused. “I wanna fuck you.”

Cas breathes hard and looks away. The view almost makes Dean explode. Castiel exposes his bare neck, naked from top to bottom with his cock next to the hunter. It’s salivating. With a huff, Dean puts his arms under the angel’s thigh pushing it up. His own hips thrusting forward to Cas’ hole, he admires the reddening spot and breathes when the tip of his cock bluntly strays in front of it. Dean takes his own cock and taps it several times in Cas’ entrance, making his cum flick on the angel’s white skin. He loves it. Loves doing it. Marking Cas.

“Fuck, you’re really hot.”

“I feel hot.” Cas mutters, rolling his hips in impatience. “_So fuck me already.”_

Dean smirks and with one move, he pops the head of his cock inside the angel Castiel lets out dirty moans, his legs opening wide like the invasion happening in his tight hole. The pain expressed as he bites his lower lip disappears on the angel as Dean begins moving inside him.

He fucks Castiel slow, then wild. The angel breaks and calls his name several times before Dean is leaning on the bed, both hands on either side of the angel, finding Castiel’s spot easily and fucking him nonstop.

The sound they make blesses the night. Dean moves his hips, loving the grip of Cas’ tight hole around him, loving the jolt he brings when he thrust forward on the angel’s body. Loving the way Cas’ cock jangles on the angel’s stomach. Dean can’t resist jacking it—and Castiel explodes in his hand with another cry, his own cum splattering on his body.

_“Fuck.”_ Dean grinds his teeth, still jacking and fucking Castiel beneath him, chasing his own orgasm. It blows inside the angel, hot spurts filling the spot and Dean groans. He let the feeling envelope him but he doesn’t move. He stays there because he wants more. He looks down at Cas who’s looking back at him.

“You’re inside me.” Cas whispers.

“I am.”

“But you’re looking at me like you want more.”

Dean’s cock responses as it hardens again. He thrusts deeper into Castiel’s already abused hole. Cas can barely keep his eyes open from the pleasure.

“I want to see your true form.” Dean admits. Castiel’s eyes fly open and he gives the hunter a surprise look. The hunter doesn’t let up the fucking, making the angel moan and struggle to keep his blue eyes open. There’s no lube, but Dean always knows how to make things less painful.

“But… _oh, Dean…”_ his breath hitches, feeling Dean’s entire length burn his insides, “you… your eyes… don’t want…”

Dean shuts his eyes and fucks Castiel in abandon. He lets his body wrap the angel, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, Castiel’s hard cock pressed between them and the friction makes Cas clutch Dean’s back, clawing him closer. Dean bites his earlobe, leaving trails of sweet kisses on his neck as he keeps the pace. Cas legs bounced against him as he crowds him, cock at the hilt, balls pressing on the skin of the angel’s ass.

“I want to see you.” Dean whispers, pulling inch by inch and thrusting deeper and deeper, whe knows he’s near. “Want to see my angel’s true form… please, Cas…”. He knows it’s impossible, knows there’s no way Castiel can do it without hurting him, but the irrational idea someone else knows a part of Castiel that he doesn’t is driving him insane. _“Cas, please… Cas… I… fuck!”_

He rolls his hips and Cas let’s out a cry when Dean hits his spot and comes.

Dean embraces Castiel tight, arms sliding behind the angel, spilling the last Cas has to arch his body.

“Dean…” Castiel makes a tug, trying to push Dean a little, “Dean?”

“M’okay…” Dean huffs, nose digging deep at the crook of Cas’ neck. “Fine.”

Stillness fills them. He feels Cas stroke his back soothingly.

In his slumber, Dean can’t help hearing a flutter of feathers, but it all gets drowned by the sounds of crackling flames and then sound of hooves stomping on the floor. Then he falls in pitch black darkness where endless walls of the Bunker haunted him. He tries looking for Sam but the stomping of beast gets louder. He hears it come closer from around the corner.

Before any looming darkness can reach him, he feels a familiar presence. The dark walls change into the kitchen and Dean likes the smell of his own cooking. He makes three burgers. He knows someone is behind him, watching his every move.

* * *

* * *

He wakes up with a startling groan, feeling warm and fulfilled. There’s a light buzz in his brain that tells him to open his eyes, but the comfortable arms wrapped around him ignores the idea. He inhales the smell of skin where his nose is pressing and lets his palm claw the hard body next to him. The body is very warm and solid. It has Dean smiling when he remembers who he is with, like everything is right in the world. He breathes in Cas’ smell, feeling the angel’s fingers trace his back wrapped around him. He doesn’t know what time it is, and he doesn’t care. He just wants to sleep more because Cas is letting him. He knows he should be up and about, being stuck in a place practically crawling with demons and other things to be hunted, but Cas beside him feels safe.

And he’s never felt safer anywhere else.

Dean lets out a groan when he moves his hips and feels his morning wood. He smirks when he grinds it soft between his legs and hears a gasp. Dean’s eyes open in the middle of the dark with only a lamp on the side table, he finds his head resting on the angel’s shoulder while half his body is still covering Castiel’s torso and below. The angel is fully watching him quietly under his hooded blue eyes. Dean blinks up at him. It feels like eon since he’s starred at Cas when it’s probably only hours.

_“Hello, Dean.”_

“Hey, babe.”

Castiel blinks softly. Dean nuzzles closer, burying his nose behind Cas. His throat is dry and he wants to take a leak, but nothing can pull him away from this warm place. Castiel smells amazing and feels amazing next to him.

“You okay, Dean?” Cas murmurs back as he gets wrapped in strong, angelic arms. “Are you hungry? You had little to eat couple of hours ago…”

“I’m hungry.” Dean admits, kissing the crook of the angel’s neck.

“We can go outside. The celebration is all night long. Everyone’s—”

“Fucking outside?” Dean snorts, leaning on his elbow to chase Castiel’s collar bone with his lips. He satisfies his mouth on the soft buds he intends to make a stand. Cas sighs and strokes his hair.

“Dean?”

The hunter hums, sucking Cas’ nipples with fervor.

“You will tell me if something is not right, okay? _Anything_ that you feel… you experience… anything, you will tell me, won’t you?”

Dean smiles on the hard bud, before licking Castiel’s left nipple.

“What’re you? Gonna play like Dr. Phil? Want me to write a journal?” he flattens his tongue on the skin, earning a slight hitch of breath from the angel.

“Dean.” Cas insists, cupping the hunter’s face and looking in his eyes. “Please?”

Dean holds the angel’s hands with a frown. He runs his palms on Castiel’s wrist, down to his arms, before clutching his wrist again.

“This about me freaking you out on the street with my stupid face?”

“You are plenty handsome.” Cas assures him that Dean can't help pulling a smile. He closes in the space of the angel who seem aware and is pleased. They can put everything aside, even petty bickers. Dean can't stay mad at those baby blues forever. Castiel's eyes are glinting. “But yes.”

Dean doesn't even remember what it's for but he likes Cas saying yes. He likes Cas naked with him, likes Cas beneath him moaning. So many things he thought he'd only see in dreams. If this is a dream, fuck don't ever wake him up.

“If- if you say so...man it's hot in here? Must be my imagination.” he fakes a wave of hand imitating a fan, Castiel following the movements of his palms with raised eyebrows.

"It is winter, Dean."

"Yeah? Must be something in the air, then?" he grins cheekily

“You know better than to believe that.”

Dean pulls himself and sits on his legs. Cas follows him into a sitting position. There’s a serious tense atmosphere between them for a moment. Dean smiles.

“Yeah, I’m hungry.”

* * *

It’s surprising how the torches still roar brightly even when it’s almost dawn. But it’s more unbelievable to see a crowd of people still on the streets, greeting each other with loud, _“Io, Saturnalia!”_ while gambling on their right hand and fucking a body on the other.

Dean and Cas found their way back in the banquet hall where the number of people didn’t even decrease. Although there are more sleeping bodies lying on tables with half garments off. Dean smirks at the debauched male and female as he grabs a barrel of alcohol. He doesn’t think he can get any sleep anymore. So, despite the cold tingle of morning air on his skin barely covered by his tunic, the hunter grabs two wooden mugs on the way and places everything on the table. He gets back on their table before Cas who has offered to get him food. He looks around the sleeping asses, rubbing his upper arms to warm himself as he did so. All of a sudden, being tucked in Cas’ embrace seemed more appealing than food. The hunter sighs and glances around those who are still rowdy. The ambiance is still lively with lesser fucking. Dean is already starting to get used to it. He’s used to moving from one place to another, so moving to another timeline doesn’t seem like a stretch. What he finds new is the feeling of contentment he hasn’t felt… _free_ to feel. Frankly even now, he’s still doubting things are true and he’s sure soon someone’s gonna drop the shoe and remind him of some awful truth.

Dean shakes the conflicted feeling together with the shiver of cold wind when he sees Castiel return.

Cas makes his way towards him, balancing with one hand a very large tray enough to fit half a table with almost all the kinds of meat and pastries Dean had seen in his life. He also holds a thick, gray woolen cloak on his arms. Cas scans the place with vigilant eyes, but when his blue eyes found Dean looking at him, instant softness creep in his super blue starlight.

“I sense you agree with everything I took from the main table.” He puts the tray down, walk behind Dean and enfold the hunter’s shoulder with the woolen cloak. Dean smiles at the tender squeeze Cas gives him.

“I agree with everything that comes with your package.” The hunter says easily, following Castiel with his eyes like a hawk. Cas notices the not-so-subtle interest but decides to ignore it as he nods at the tray, frowning.

“I couldn’t get my hands on anything warm for you. If you like I can—”

Dean reaches a hand and pulls Castiel down the bench next to him. He snuggles next to him, arms, hips, legs touching as he wraps Castiel with the blanket too. Unsatisfied, Dean moves an extra space so his shoulder invades the angel’s personal space, his nose pressing on Cas’ throat.

“Yep.” Dean inhales smiling, “Warmed already.”

Castiel doesn’t speak for a few seconds. Dean flushes at the thought of Cas staring at his head intently but he doesn’t look up. He’s too embarrassed to look him in the eyes now. Sure, they fuck around too much, but this kind of silent intimacy in public still makes Dean a little shy. Cause they both know it means something. Not that the fucking doesn’t. But little things… it’s always the little things.

Seconds pass, Dean feels Cas’ arms wrap solidly around him. There’s a kiss planted on his head and Dean thinks he might just melt on the spot. The little things that counts and makes his heart race. He likes it. Dean sighs in contentment. If only their world is as comfortable and as safe as Cas’ presence make it to be. Dean doesn’t need to feel threatened nor afraid.

Not even from the war god’s mark, he doesn’t. Except the thought makes him frown and heave a sigh.

_“I’ll protect you.”_

Dean opens his eyes and pulls up, meeting Castiel’s eyes. Did Cas just read his thoughts?

“Told you not to do that, didn’t I?” he doesn’t mean to break the spell, but the snap in his tone surprises even himself. For a second, he regrets it, afraid of Cas pulling away. Afraid of his poison ruining them again because Dean knows he does that. All his failed relationships have proven as much. 

Castiel doesn’t pull away though. Instead, he leans down to peer in the hunter’s eyes closely.

“Dean.” the deep timbre in his voice shakes Dean to the core. “You’re not telling me something.”

“I never tell you squat—” he grins.

_“Dean.” _

Castiel gives him a stern look that has Dean feeling many things so he’s the one pulling away. The warm spot on his shoulder sags coldly. He bows and rubs his neck, eyes closed. 

“Nothing important.”

“Everything happening to you is important to me.” Cas touches Dean’s wrist. “Talk to me.”

“Talking is a little overestimated, y’know that. And I thought you can just zap it from my head?”

“I can read through your soul, not really what troubles you. You know that, Dean. I would never invade your freedom like that.”

“I—” Dean bites his lips. “Sorry. Just this whole… ending thing is getting to me. We don’t know what’s happening to Sam, to the world and we’re stuck here, stuck in the same problem, stuck with _more _one after another. I mean—what the hell? Like there aren’t enough characters that can do this job in this story! How long is Chuck going to play us?”

“Well, for starters,” Cas resumes his close proximity as he lands a hand around Dean’s shoulder again which the hunter is grateful. “I don’t think Chuck can manipulate the wills of the other pagan gods here.”

“Yeah, right.”

“No, Dean. Listen. Even if he can, what does it matter? He’s not in this story writing you now, not involved anymore—”

“And what if there’s another god writing this? What if this is really the end?” Dean points at the top of his heart, where his tattoo lies, green eyes conflicted. Cas sees pass his eyes, sees the bottom of Dean’s unspoken fear and shakes his head.

“I won’t let that happen.”

“And you’d do what? Sacrifice yourself for me? Forget it, Cas. There’s more to your life than just keep on sacrificing it for for my ass. You know what? I told you before and I’ll tell you again—if things go south—you leave—”

Cas suddenly smiles so blatantly that has the hunter gaping.

_“What’s so funny?”_

“Nothing—I’m sorry.” Cas presses his lips, “But it’s really something you still think I’d listen about leaving you behind. After everything I've done to keep you with me. After all this time. Not to mention now that I have that 'ass', I think ripping you away from me is beyond tolerable.”

Dean grunts. Despite all the warm feelings that Castiel so wants to keep him, wants to protect him, he still grunts. He knows what Cas is saying. Doesn't make him change his tune anyway. 

“Would it kill you to listen for once?” he snaps.

“Yes. I think I might actually die.” Cas says solemnly, ignoring Dean's tone. “I don’t think I can imagine life without you, Dean. Don’t make me swear on that, I don’t think I will listen anyway.”

Dean grits his teeth. “Well, good talk.” He looks away, dropping both arms on the table, shoulders hunched. Of all the stubborn angels, Castiel has to be the most hard headed. Yeah, that's why he's fallen and walking the earth and time with puny humans. Castiel on making his choice, is all because he's too stubborn to listen to anyone about self preservation. Cas was never that. Dean thinks he doesn't deserve a shred of hair of this angel.

Castiel suddenly sighs.

“Was the purpose of this to make me agree to leave you behind?”

Dean doesn’t answer.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I don’t think I can really honor that. Not if I can help it. If you were in my position and I asked that of you, I don’t think—”

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll just both die then.”

Silence. Cas keeps his hands-on Dean. Then quietly, when the hunter doesn’t pay him any heed, the angel puts his chin on Dean’s shoulder and rests it there. It takes Dean awhile to get around and once he does, he finds himself orbiting around the angel, heads leaning together in silence.

“Aren’t you going to eat, Dean? There’s plenty of food on the table.” Cas whispers, loving eyes on the man. The same eyes, unchanging eyes always looking after Dean's way. Dean melts and hates himself for making it difficult to one being who'd do anything for him. Because he loves him.

“Not really hungry…maybe a beer…” 

“It’s too early for it.”

“I think I just uh, need a booze.” He practically throws himself off the table but Castiel mirrors his movement and shoots up the chair too. Dean blinks at him. Castiel is watching him intently.

“You don’t have to go with me, Cas.”

“I don’t want to lose you, Dean.”

The hunter opens his mouth, then a grin eats his mouth. Chickflick or what, Cas has to be one of those romantics. Dean can be one too, and sure he wants to show Cas all his feelings. He smiles feeling elated.

“I’m only going to grab some beer. See that table over there? No one’s gonna serve us those wines if I don’t get them so just sit back here, okay? I'm gonna be fine. Really."

Castiel’s lips curve in disagreement. The scowl too adorable to be anything else than protective and grumpy. Dean can't helping rolling his eyes.

“Cas, you don’t have to worry about me all the time.”

“I do have to. I worry about you, Dean. It’s a prime instinct I always have about you.”

Dean smirks at the remark. This angel is hitting all his buttons at once. Is it Christmas? No wait, it's fucking Saturnalia.

“You make it sound like an obligation.”

“I like the obligation.” Cas says dryly and with no amount of humor. Dean's head whirls, his heart filling like it's never done before.

“Geez, stop hitting on me, Cas, or I’ll think you’re in love with me.”

“Which is an incredible improvement of your ability to sense given I have always been explicit with my intentions.”

Dean gasps, trying hard not to show his embarrassment. Of course he knows. He knows Cas loves him more than anything. And Dean's just there fucking up everything. So like the man that Dean Winchester is, he takes the hit like a pro. Sarcasm flows.

“Aw, stop embarrassing me. But really, all these food and free booze. You think the Romans are aware they are going to go extinct in the next hundred years.” He avoids Cas’ eyes.

“I think this is why they have that other saying so as not to waste opportunities.” Cas comments quietly, “_Seize the day. _Always living their lives without holding back. Romans are known for that. They may have been punished by the gods for it, but still, they were living their lives.”

Dean meets Castiel’s eyes and is surprised to find them full of intended meaning. Here they were, at the beginning of the centuries and all they can still do is eye fuck when in fact they can do so much more. Dean nods in agreement.

“Yeah… they shouldn’t be wasting any time, should they? Just live life as it is… no buts, no exceptions…”

“Saturnalia is a celebration for indulgence. Food, wine, drink, gambling… it’s basically a coliseum for decadence. On that note…” the angel gestures his head around and Dean hears screams and shout of people enjoying some wrestling match across the banquet. Mini _gladiator games._

And then Kissing and fucking. _Everywhere._ The Romans are at it again.

And the dudes are so hot on another it makes Dean ask his life choices so he tries to focus on Cas. Castiel is watching him intently. Like he's born that way. Made that way. Made for Dean. The hunter stops himself when a bubble of something much more than arousal, much more than anything rises from the pit of his stomach.

_Shit... he's falling hard._

Dean smiles unconvincingly and dodges the blue eyes. He becomes very aware of himself as he clears his throat. He finds his eyes falling back on the earthly going on and can’t help staring at how _wild and free _everyone is with their greed and desire. Observing them sends tingling sensations in his skin. Cas deadpans at the world. Talk about an ancient angel too but this is way beyond Dean’s understanding and... fuck… People on the table, on the floor, in all space that makes him gag on his sixth bottle and laugh out of nowhere.

“Dammit, this goes on for a week? And no one stops them!?”

“Everyone’s basically into it. It’s a very popular tradition.”

“Yeah, I can see that. _Peachy!_ But how can these—” he waved his hand around, _“_— ended up as boring as our future Christmas?”

“Well, traces of Saturnalia are still observed in the 21st century.”

“Yeah—but _public sex?”_

“So Christianity arrives to make it meaningful, toning down the self-indulgence, it now concentrates on sharing gifts. The spread of religion is to lessen evil doings against other human beings, Dean. Humans without the guidance of scriptures will basically tear each other’s throat off. Lack of self-control and moral influence is very dangerous.”

“I bet,” Dean has followed the movements of Castiel’s lips the entire time and shakes his head. “So wanna enlighten me more about this Saturnalia thing aside from being the best kind of party there is _when I get my bottle of beer?”_

“You humans do this on daily basis without celebration anyway.”

“Yeah, humor me, Cas. We don’t jump at other people during festival. But I gotta go get my beer, man. Not even your sexy ass can stop me.”

Castiel raises an eyebrow and Deans squirms. “Yeah, alright, your sexy ass _might _be able to.”

“Be quick then.”

Dean grins as his right-hand slips down the angel’s ass cheek covered by the lightest material Dean has learned to love. He gives that ass a meaty squeeze. Cas slaps his hands away with a roll of his eyes.

Dean walks pass tables, avoided certain _busy_ spots before he finally lands on those ancient beers and rums. Mouth already watering, he takes around four he manages to slip in between his fingers before he’s making his way towards the angel again.

Dean would have walk pass the lady staring at him from a distance when something in her appearance made him double back and take a good look. To his surprise, he recognizes her. Not only because there’s the expression on her face he usually recognizes to witnesses of _Supernatural, _but because he does remember seeing her with her familiar pileus, getting bullied by Roman soldiers a night ago then saved by Castiel. Before Dean can stop himself, he’s already walking towards her direction.

His approach has her eyes widening, but to Dean’s relief, she didn’t run. He stands in front of her now, blinking at her and giving her an awkward smile. She shuffles on her feet.

“It’s you, isn’t it? The man with the angel?”

That wipes the smile on Dean’s face. He looks around him left and right, and then takes a few steps more to the woman who probably isn’t as old as twenty, Dean can’t be sure. He gives the lady a firm-but-not-so-stern look, but not so intimidating either.

“Who do you mean?”

“That man who helped me… he’s an angel, isn’t he? My older sister says that’s what they are called. She… she is a powerful priestess. She knows about the power of gods.”

That pique Dean’s interest but it’s not easy to trust anyone. Especially if they know about gods and angels so casually like they too are from another universe.

“Look—I don’t know what your sister’s been telling you, but spill. Why are you following us, lady?” he doesn’t conceal the suspicion in his voice. If she is any threat to Castiel whatsoever…

“I, no, I wasn’t. At least, not until I saw him walking with you here…”

“What d’you want?” Dean is frowning so hard he sees her flinch a little.

“I… I forgot to say thank you.”

“That so?” Dean doesn’t stop the interrogation, an eyebrow arching. “You didn’t have to go through all the trouble.” To his surprise, he sees her fidget and her eyes scans the crowd hopefully. That’s when it hits Dean. Her red cheeks should have clued him in.

_Cas, you pretty son of a bitch._

“Uhh… sorry, I…” Dean blinks to himself, embarrassed. He doesn’t feel the burning jealousy he feels toward Prometheus. But he does feel something. Pride? Smug? A bit full of himself because Castiel is his? He gives the woman another awkward smile. “Uh… if you wanna thank him, you can talk to him in person if you want to? Mind you, he gets really grumpy and a little impatient—”

“N-no. I wouldn’t want to disturb your celebrations. No, I’m sorry I followed you. I was just curious to see him… actually here. My sister says Rome is in full power of gods and angels are not too keen to get involved except—”

“Hang on, you said your sister’s a priestess?” Dean tilts his chin, “she knows about angels, how?”

“She met one some months ago. My sister’s one of the chosen priestess. A Vesta guarding the sacred fire, it’s natural for them as they work as messengers of to the gods. We haven’t spoken with each other for a long time, but I see her around during parade, in the colosseum with the emperor or when she goes back to the temple after a ritual. She knows I’m around. She smiles at me when she looks at the crowd.”

Dean just nods but nothing else registers in his mind except one truth: the Vestas have family. He sure isn’t going to pull the trigger on them by stealing the sacred fire that’s supposed to protect them!

In his silent reverie, Dean becomes aware of loud chaos coming from across the banquet. Cries of dismay from fleeing Romans get his attention, and to his horror, he sees Castiel in the middle of the fray, standing his ground calmly while five to ten Roman with black eyes surround him.

“_Shit!”_ Dean hisses as he turns to the lady, “get the hell out of here!”

He dashes towards Cas, all meaning to protect and get to his angel— he scrambles pass the wave of panicking Roman as tables fly left and right. Castiel is outnumbered but _fuck_ can he fight! Sounds of demon wailing bursts to Dean’s ears and he moves quicker, determined to help his lover. Dean catches one demon in the head— shattering a bottle on his head. He gets attack by others in turn, but the hunter shoves himself forward to where Cas is. The angel sees him coming, blue eyes widening—but before either of them can reach each other, the whole solid ground gives a mighty shudder.

Then it quakes so sharply—and all the demons suddenly are yelling in pain.

Dean shoots a look behind him to the demon he did not notice is standing behind him with raised knife. But that demon too is cringing in pain like he’s hit by a spear—

Then his demonic essence ejects itself—but it dies anyways. All other demons did. Dean doesn’t linger on them. Panic rose in his chest because Castiel is not with him. He turns sharply around, hoping Cas is okay from this genocide.

He finds Castiel on the protective arms of Prometheus who is speaking to the angel with solemn expression, both hands on the angel’s shoulder. Castiel deadpans a response, but his eyes widen when the Titan leans down and captures his lips.

Dean’s there the next second, swinging Prometheus’ sturdy shoulder and landing a solid punch straight on his nose. The hunter hears a distinct crack, but the pain is satisfying enough and breaking a few knuckles is worth the surprise look on the Titan’s handsome face.

It’s worth even the blood.

_Fuck!_

_ _


	10. Leave All Else to the Gods

_ ** ** _

_ **Permitte Divis Cetera** _

* * *

_“Dean!”_

The pain doesn’t last. Castiel is beside him at once, covering Dean’s knuckles like he did when Dean jumps on Gabriel. It’s becoming quite a hobby Dean isn’t willing to deprive himself with if its involved Cas. He's done many wrong things in his life, taking Castiel for granted one of them. He can't lose Cas now, can't imagine the horror of losing the only being that cared for him without expecting anything in return. To let anyone take Cas, it's making him insane-

Castiel, for his part, is beside himself. There’s an irritated glare in his blue eyes but it’s not for Dean. Warm grace envelopes his injury and it’s gone the next second but the fury remains bitter in his tongue.

_“Fuck with him again, I swear…!”_ he lashes, stepping forward but Castiel holds him back.

Prometheus’ nostril flares but he takes Cas’ shake of head and steps down.

He didn’t apologize however. Dean grinds his teeth but the feel of the angel almost hugging his arm keeps him grounded. Cas seems unaffected by the kiss, his eyes straying in concern in the hunter’s direction. The Titan gives one press of his eyes, before sighing and gesturing at the empty banquet with empty demon vessels around. When he opens his eyes, Dean can see underlying indignation there.

“I warned you about these attacks.” He addresses Castiel. “I told you the demons will easily find you—an angel amidst the stench and filth of these creatures with a beacon of power on his side. And if the war god starts looking for his prey in earnest—” he nods at Dean who finds fault at everything Prometheus is doing at the moment. “—you know you don’t stand a chance. You have to stay with me, I can protect you.”

Dean points a finger at him.

“_Protect my ass—” _he knows what Prometheus really wants and the tumult in his chest is uncontainable.

“Dean…”

The hunter whirls at the angel with contorted eyebrows. “What? You’re not really taking this bullshit bait, are you? _Cas, we can take care of ourselves.”_

Prometheus glares, sky blue eyes clouding.

“Have your eyes failed to notice that you were both outnumbered? And there are many more as night falls, each night your enemies grow in number. Tell me, are you really so selfish to sacrifice Castiel’s safety for your own peace of mind? You who possess a beacon mark on your soul that can be sensed by any immortals from afar? You who bring the most danger—”

“_Prometheus_.” Castiel’s voice is full of warning but Dean heard enough. He snaps his eyes to the angel who meets his eyes full. “We’re not going with him if you don’t want to, Dean.”

But Dean is watching the angel with a sense of uneasiness. “Are we… am I putting in you in that much danger?”

Prometheus makes an attempt to answer but Dean points and glares at him. He takes a moment to calm down, takes his time to shoot Castiel another look before briefly turning back to the Titan eyeing him with disdain. Like Prometheus has long decided Dean is no good for Cas. Yeah? Who's he to decide?

“Shut it, Shane.” he mutters more to himself. The Titan only blinks, but the hunter’s attention is back on Cas who shakes his head, face deeply frowning. Castiel knows exactly what he wants to say. “Am I the reason we’re being hunted?”

“No.” Castiel grips his arm.

“Then what is he—?”

“My point is, even if there’s a reason they come after you, you really think an angel is any welcome in a nest of demons, Dean?” Castiel argues solidly, a hand flying on the hunter’s right shoulder, “Whether you’ve been compromised or not, that doesn’t change the fact that I am hunted for my own being. That being said, we have to go.”

“Were you plannin’ on telling me about this at all or were you just plannin on soldiering on, risking your life protecting me?”

“Protecting you is what I do. I’d take on anyone who will try to take you from my arms.” Cas eyes flickers in challenge, as if daring anyone to contradict him and Dean feels an overwhelming sense of love for the celestial being. They both need not say it. It shows in their eyes anyway.

“Cas…”

A concerned look filled the deadpan expression of the angel, though in Dean’s case Cas is never indifferent. Cas has always been a bottle of emotion, a lightning ready to explode when ticked. Right at this moment, Dean thinks he’ll only believe Cas because it’s Cas. Nothing more.

Dean sighs and without a word, took Cas on his arms and embraced him tightly. There’s a surprise gasp from the angel while Dean slings a left arm on his lower back, his right hand at the back of the angel’s head. Dean closes his eyes for a moment, taking in a whiff of the angel’s smell lost in the scent of fire wood, candle, grass and something just Cas. There’s a tight grip on his back as the angel finally responded, giving Dean a tight squeeze and they stood like that for a moment.

When they let go, Dean turns to Prometheus with a grim look on his face. He doesn’t let go of Cas, arms still around the angel and he lets Prometheus watch him dully. But Dean has to do his job and if that means making a deal which he is sure he will regret later, he will.

“Your place still open for invitation?”

Cas shifts on his shoulder.

“Dean…”

“Shh…” Dean mutters, kissing Castiel’s forehead lightly. “It’s gonna be okay.”

* * *

Dean thinks Prometheus will be snapping them away with his mojo, but turns out there is an elegant carriage with one white horse waiting for them at the end of the street, beyond the walls of the banquet. But the ride to Prometheus’ residence is unpleasant and it is not because the Titan spent it gawking over Castiel with much interest and adoration, no. To Dean’s consternation, the sounds of hooves of the horses that carried them in the villa only gave him a headache. Castiel is perched on his side, giving him worried looks while the Titan sits silently opposite them.

“Dean…” Cas calls, reaching a hand to cover his when Dean finally puts his head on his hands, ears covered by his palms. The hunter leans on the touch of his friend and grimaces when he looks up.

“It’s nothin… bad headache…” he musters will to sit straight and leans on the solid material. Cas’ hand entwines with his and Dean is glad there’s a support right there but he doesn’t squeeze as tight as the angel did. The pounding in his head is getting painful. He opens his eyes and blinks, only to see Prometheus finally ripping his eyes away from the angel to give him his full attention.

“It’s the mark of the god.”

Dean gives him a shitty grin. “Like we all don’t know it.”

Castiel’s jaw clenches, grip on Dean’s hand tightening.

“Be glad he did not kill you.” Prometheus garners sharp looks from both angel and hunter which he returned equally. “The War of God doesn’t let any creature live in his presence. Everything around him withers and dies, he is violent enough to give certain death. But you… he must have found you worthy of his time to prey on.”

“Talk sexy on me again and Cas is gonna shred you.” Dean chuckles.

Prometheus ignores him. “But what make me curious is how you escape him. Mars is not known for his mercy. He is not known to show compassion, especially not a human. Marking you is already interesting as it is, but he would not have let go of you easy—”

“S-stop talking, shit.” Dean grits his teeth. The sound of hooves is getting on him. He glances at the window and sees full night and passing torches in blurry speed. Yet the clapping sound only intensifies.

Castiel fidgets beside him, tugging on Dean’s tunic. He doesn’t say anything but he reaches out to Dean, caresses his arm to sooth him enough to give comfort. When Dean doesn’t respond on the next full minute, Castiel wraps an arm around him and pulled him close. He settles Dean’s head by his neck gently.

Dean snuggles closer, biting his lower lip and finding solace burying his nose on the crook of the angel’s neck. He can feel the rumble of Castiel’s voice when he spoke next.

“We need to know what Mars wants. We need to…What is it, Dean?" because Castiel definitely notices how Dean is sulking.

"Ares” Dean mutters, glaring at Prometheus who surveys him. The hunter shrugs. "What? Thought you guys always love all your different epitaphs? Ares, Mars, Suns?"

"Dean." Castiel says patiently, leaving Dean to grumble again. To Prometheus the angel adds, "Ares, Mars, we know the god. I need your help for Dean, please tell me you can, Prometheus."

Dean's eyes darken at the way Prometheus' eyes shone. Because no man or god can resist the plea of the apple of their eyes, obviously. Dean's a man. He knows favors can bite them in the ass sometimes. Especially someone as tricky as this Titan. Like hell he will let Prometheus take Cas. Over his dead body.

“I know, Castiel, I understand. We will help him. I have someone in my villa who can help with the ritual.”

“Ritual…?” Dean pulls away in surprise but Castiel only strokes his head.

“It’s okay. It’s nothing you should worry about.”

“I’m not dying you know…” Dean murmurs, close enough to angel’s ear.

“I’m not risking it either way.” Cas mutters back, embracing him boldly in front of their host and sighing on Dean’s hair. “Please bear with it, Dean.”

“I’m fine.”

Castiel doesn’t answer but the squeeze he gives Dean spoke volume of reassurances. Dean bows his head and nuzzles the top of his head on the angel's chin, feeling a little better for the warmth it provided. He doesn't know what he'd do without Cas. Feeling pathetic and determined he'd never fail Castiel like the pathetic human that he is, Dean squeezes his eyes, praying to Castiel the intensity of his love. Cas presses on him with a heavy sigh.

_Protect. _The wave of thought of the angel surprisingly only brought Dean to clench his jaw. Because as always, it's Castiel who's always there to save him from his own misery. What did he ever do to deserve this angel? And how can he pay him back?

* * *

The ride to Prometheus’ residence took a good quarter of an hour around the uphill slope of the Capitoline Hill. They arrive at the Titan’s large villa after another quarter of an hour with the moon brightening the already fiery glow of the Forum Romanum just below the hill with its blazing torches Dean is sure if NASA’s google earth can capture, it’ll declare Rome as the brightest city in the world.

Well, once upon a time, Dean is certain, Rome was.

The moment the chariot stops, the ringing of the hooves disappears. Dean opens his green eyes with much relief, even Castiel peering over him can see the change. There’s a question in his blue eyes, but Prometheus climbing down the chariot and greeting someone outside interrupts their eye session and the two follows suit. Dean stops a moment to take in the grand villa that seems to be fitting a Titan’s taste because _Prometheus’ villa is huge._

Made of stone and bricks with creative red tiled roofs as large as a castle itself, Dean’s jaw drops a centimeter as he scans the red endless walls from left to right that covers everything in sight. With that short pause, he nudges Castiel’s shoulder who is still standing beside him and whispers in his ear.

“He ain’t a Titan for nothing. And I only say that when describing what’s inside someone’s pants.”

“I shouldn’t like to hear you speak of other person’s genitals, Dean.”

Dean smirks.

“Are you okay now?”

“Uhuh. It’s all these clip-clopping… can’t stand it. Better not use any horses as transportation next time. Can’t he like zap us here? Has to go the Roman thing when in Rome do Romans do?”

Cas gives him a sigh. “He is fond of white horses.”

“Cause Hercules owns one?”

“Hercules only happens to drop from heaven on his own wings, not with a horse. And he’s not a horse when he’s got a halo and a harp strung on his shoulder.”

Dean stares at Cas for a moment, then the meaning sinks in.

_“Holy shit—Cas—?”_

Prometheus clears his throat. Dean looks around to see him standing at the wooden gateway of the villa with another man. Dean would have mistaken him for a statue if he did not turn his neck to view them. A long dark haired, sullen handsome man meets Dean’s green and the hunter starts at the deep-set black eyes that stares directly into him. It set a dark vibe on his spine. Dean can easily distinguish him with his dark satin tunic that run from one shoulder to his waist, clinging on his broad shoulder and strong arms. That’s when Dean realizes he is in the presence of another god. Or at least who looks like one. The dark eyes linger on him for a moment, before it drops on Cas.

Dean has this sudden urge to block the angel from the dark eyes. His attempt, though unacted, seems to be read by the being who scowls at him.

“It’s alright.” Cas says, putting an assuring hand on Dean’s elbow, but the angel not letting go makes Dean think Castiel feels the same way. They slowly approach the two gods.

As they stop, Dean can’t help observing the additional presence. The dude wears a long black toga that opens halfway near his knees. His sharp jaw supports a firm lip put into permanent scowl and he can just be Roman’s top model besides Prometheus if not for the scar that runs from his right brow across his eyes to his cheeks. But both eyes are much alive. In fact, what catches Dean’s attention is the man’s yellow eyes—_for fuck sake those were black seconds ago—_

Dean instinctively reaches for his knife only to remember how weaponless he is, yet thinking of it, he feels something solid hit his palms. Castiel puts an assuring hand on his shoulder and keeps him steady and the blade he doesn’t remember where from disappears from his clutch.

No one seems to notice Dean looking down his empty hand. He is sure he felt it. The blade from Gabrel.

“It’s alright. He is a demi god.” Cas tells him, still not letting go of his elbow.

Dean looks at the tall man with dark hair. Prometheus looks from Dean to Castiel, then finally gesture back to his acquaintance.

“This is Bacchus. My close friend and assistant. He will be making you comfortable in your stay in the villa as my other servants have been freed for the next seven days for the duration of Saturnalia. I have no interest with the games of role reversal in my own home and they gladly admit they’d rather be with their families. Though, I have received plenty invitation which we will all see if beneficial to our cause.”

“Role reversal?” Dean has heard of it dropped many times but this is the only time he wants to get enlightened especially after seeing Bacchus. It’s Castiel who answers.

“It’s a tradition of allowing the servants to be the master during feasts while the master will serve them meal. In the spirit of Saturnalia, social classes are set aside and masters and their slaves can speak on equal ground. That is, of course it does not change after Saturnalia.”

“Really? Well, sorry for ruining your game.” Dean smirks at Bacchus and Prometheus who both only grimaced at him and the hunter huffs thinking how hilarious he can be at times.

“We are not really master and servant per se. Bacchus is a good follower of mine and he can speak his mind to me any time he wants. But at the same time, he prefers to serve me as I serve humanity. But enough of that, come! I am certain Bacchus and I will be enough to accommodate the needs of two special guest. I believe Saturnalia has never been this lovely with you around, Castiel.”

“On another circumstance, I believe.” Cas sighs, leaning closer to Dean. “But we have more pressing matters… I need to know what kind of curse the War god has bestowed Dean.”

“Of course.” Prometheus turns to Bacchus who arches both eyebrows.

* * *

Not a moment later after a few refreshments for Dean while Castiel did not take anything, they are led inside the Roman Villa ubana. Dean easily sees the grandeur of the whole place different from the insula he and Cas stayed at the city. The villa opens into an arch leading to a wide atrium decorated with breathtaking murals, paintings, tile mosaics and sculptures in different form. Dean tries not to get overwhelmed, but when the villa expanded into a courtyard, pools, garden along the way as they cross the corridor, with one or two giant fountains in the middle of hallways, he knows the Romans never did it halfheartedly. Gods or not.

To his curiosity, Bacchus leads them down a narrow passage way after a short turn from the corridor. An underground entry way meets Dean and Castiel as they follow into a spiraling stone staircase but they did not say anything.

Their steps echo as they venture deeper, Dean keeping an eye on the gods, flexing his right palm almost waiting for the white blade to make an appearance again. But most of the time, he keeps his eyes on Cas who does the same for him. It will not do them good to be trapped in a dungeon by two gods, but Cas trusts Prometheus. Dean doesn’t. That makes the difference.

Torch lights fill his eyes as they set down the final steps, opening into a circular stone room with nothing in the middle save a stone table. Prometheus and Bacchus are already talking on the wooden table where different paraphernalia of apothecary can be seen. Dean frowns. There’s a familiar smell in the air that makes him feel both nauseous and giddy. He as he looks at the table to table, then at the obvious pentacle Cas is staring at drawn on the floor, circulating the stone table.

Dean stands beside the angel.

“Some stone table, huh? Lemme guess—this gonna roll like, Narnia? Am I gonna be sacrificed?”

“No.” Cas crosses his arms. “At least, you’re not going to get tied down and held against your will. I see to that.”

“Course you will.” Dean smirks, giving Cas’ cheek a light touch before looking down the floor. “So which pentacle is this? Solomons?”

“You are familiar with it?”

“Solomon’s pentacle—I can only remember few. Had to go through his whole barricade of sigils cause you know—always getting haunted by clingy angels and demons.” He winks at the angel then frowns down the circle. He walks around, trying to make sense of the symbols then points at the star above the pentacle. “Yep. Solomon’s alright. Sam’s obsessed with the tattoo’s history, see. Figured out there are many useful symbols, often use against evil but we never figured out how the design turns out as fancy as it did now. Where d’you think the anti-possession-tattoo came from?”

“Is that a rhetorical question?”

“Will you kiss me rough if I stop asking you stupid questions?”

“You’re not stupid, Dean.”

“You only say that cause you think I’m adorable.”

“You are adorable.”

Dean blushes but clears his throat as Cas walks towards him, eyes still on the symbol.

“This Saturn’s fourth pentacle of the sun. Use to ward off any evil disguise and deceit to the owner and ultimately shows behind veils and opens one’s true thoughts and secrets. You can say… it sheds light to any kinds of lies or hidden malice… it’ll help with your current… current predicament.”

Dean doesn’t miss the break on Cas voice.

“You okay?”

“No.” Cas glances at him with a tight smile. That’s when Dean realizes Cas is worried so he reaches a hand on the angel’s arm, running his fingers on Cas’ warm skin. Dean smiles when Castiel walks into his space and drops his forehead on Dean’s lips.

“Dean.” Cas always says his name like there’s life to it. Like every time he says it, he’s afraid he’ll forget it. Dean soaks the angel in his embrace and plants a proper kiss on his forehead.

“Hey… talk to me.”

Cas stays silent for a moment, his bottom lip worrying under his top teeth. Dean strokes the side of his cheeks to assure him.

“This is my fault. You wouldn’t be in this position if I didn’t—”

“If you don’t stop now, I can think of another way to make you _and _use this table.” There’s a playful smirk on his lips that Cas follows, then the angel is looking into his eyes. Really looks and Dean lets him. Dean can’t help reaching a hand on his beautiful face. He wishes they are on some other place.

“You’re not afraid of this.” Cas says searchingly.

Dean traces Castiel’s jawline, standing too close he can feel the heat of the angel’s body not really for a simple tunic to contain. He let his fingers caressed the sharp outline, till his thumb rubs on the angel’s lower lips.

“No. I’m more afraid of losing this.”

Dean will never not remind himself how incredibly beautiful Castiel is. How everything about him demands attention from the crashing starlight in his aroused eyes, to his lavish pink lips that will shame any goddess. How Dean wants nothing but to take him and let himself be taken. Then… why not? Slowly, he leans down, lips pressing on to the soft chapped ones.

How it burns. Kissing Cas.

Castiel doesn’t deny him the sweet entry and they kissed slowly. Pulling on the lush lips, biting with him the softest bottom lips, Dean pulls back and finds Cas watching him with intensity. Beneath them, their hips press closely, the hunter can feel the angel’s hard length calling his attention. Dean feels the same wave of arousal and they would have dipped again had it not for an intruder’s voice calling them back to reality sharply.

“You mind?”

Dean looks at the demi-god whose eyes are on them. Then his dark eyes focus on Dean.

_“You. Strip.”_

Dean shoots him an incredulous look, but it’s nothing compared to the sudden whip of the wind that lashes on their skin, rendering the fire on the torches flickering when there’s no wind in the underground.

“Castiel.” Prometheus says quietly. “The ritual has to commence or your lover will not be able to survive. Let it be.”

Dean looks down to Cas still wrapped in his arms, and sure enough he finds the angel fiercely staring at the demi-god with his blue eyes filled with rolling thunder. Cas is obviously livid. There’s that look right there that almost made Dean want to kiss him again and again, because he knows he’s the only one who could. Allowed to do so with ardent fervor. He’s the only one who can _touch _the angel of the lord in many ways, the only one who can break into Castiel’s strong demeanor and make him melt into his arms.

_Dammit, if he’s gonna strip in front of these gods, he’s gotta calm his boner!_

Cas presses to his hips when he shifts and Dean gives a sharp moan. Cas quickly glances in his direction in surprise. Dean gives him one look—just one look and Cas must’ve seen something deep in his green eyes, because the next thing, the angel is on his soldier mode.

“Leave us. Now.” He tells both gods.

Dean didn’t see them leave, but the moment Castiel pushes him at the edge of the stone table and crashes his mouth into his groan, Dean knows they are alone. Then he’s passed caring whether gods or goddesses or tiny little gargoyles are watching them—his focus zeroes in the object of his desire who is currently making his lips swollen. Cas who is sending his world on fire. 

Castiel hungrily takes every corner of his lips, sucks on his tongue, leading the movement of their necks as he put both hands on Dean’s neck. He kisses him deeply, tongue swiping corners not even Dean knows exists. The heat of his breath and his movement is enough to drive Dean arching his hips forward, both hands sliding behind Castiel’s ass to pull him in. He takes rein on both the angel’s cheeks and moan on the kiss when his fingers find the spot dividing both regions.

“Dean…” Cas makes the most of his name and Dean thinks he’s going to come when Castiel’s hand slips down to take his hard cock already peeking from under his tunic.

_“Fuck, Cas…” _Dean shuts his eyes close, Castiel stroking his length and not letting go. Castiel nips down his neck and Dean obligingly lets his head fall back, giving him much room to explore. He sits there, Castiel between his legs while the angel strokes and drags his lips all over his collar bone, his chest, sucking on his hard buds, flattening his tongue to lick on the spaces of Dean’s pectoral. He presses closer between Dean, pushing his legs wide apart as he suckles on Dean’s throat.

“Y-ou…” Dean gasps and it seems foolish to lay a joke now when he’s getting crowded on, “think it’s wise… desecrating a… _fuck…_ mm…. temple table like this?”

Castiel grunts and slides both hands behind Dean to his ass cheeks and squeezes hard, pulling Dean to him so there’s real friction. Dean hisses in pleasure. Castiel licks his earlobe, tongue rolling, then tracing his jaw again, he pulls.

“To be precise, you are under one of Saturn’s pentacle made to reveal what others truly are, not what they pretend to be.”

“In short—we’re being honest here under—_oh shit_—” Dean moans as he cards his fingers on Castiel’s hair and slowly guides him down.

“You’re still able to talk.” Cas observes.

Dean clamps his mouth when the angel slowly kneels beneath him, push both his thighs wide and runs his hands-on Dean’s warm skin. Dean knows Cas can hear him loud and clear.

Then Cas kisses the tip of his cock and licks slowly along the side. Dean tries not to whimper but when he opens his eyes, he finds Castiel’s blue eyes staring up at him, heavy lidded and full of lust. Something darker is there, but nothing Dean hasn’t seen before. Castiel wants him, that’s all it means. Wants him so bad as does

_“You’re mine.”_ Cas breathes and takes Dean’s cock into his mouth, swallowing him whole till Dean can feel the head of his cock is hitting the back of Cas’ throat. Dean swears out loud, chin up in the air.

“_Fuck, Cas… your hot mouth… on my cock… fuck…”_

Castiel keeps his pace as he bobs and sucks Dean in what the hunter can only describe as heavenly

Dean catches his breathe and lets his moan fill the room. Castiel doesn’t let up, letting Dean guide his head because the hunter knows Cas is going to drink all of him. This above everything else got his body jerking forward, pulling Cas’ head closer and fucking to his mouth slowly. But Cas pulls sharply on his ass and Dean’s grinding forward in frenzy. He can feel his length slipping in and out into Cas’ hot mouth driving him insane as he pulls and thrusts, the dirty slapping sound turning him even more. Then he groans and pauses, almost pulling away to spare his baby, but Castiel chases after and Dean comes.

His throaty groan catches. Cas takes everything, his mouth sucking on Dean’s last spurt. It takes awhile for him to pull slowly and when he did, Dean snakes his hands under the angel’s arm and pulls him up into another wet kiss, cum and spit oozing out of Castiel’s lips. Dean tastes his own cum but he licks Castiel open while he pulls the angel into his lap.

Cas’ body is so warm, so soft and pliant Dean almost cries when he bites on Castiel’s exposed neck. They’re both still on fire. Castiel embraces him, planting light kisses on his cheeks. Dean kisses him strong, pulling and breathless. He quickly wraps his free hand around Castiel’s unattended erection already leaking of precum and jacks him wildly while they kiss. Cas moans his name. His dick doesn’t disappoint the moment he settles Cas on his lap, it springs up rejuvenated, hitting Cas’ ass. The angel groans and grinds down, making Dean lose his breath and to pull his right hand to wet his fingers. Heart beating fast, hands working, Dean takes Castiel’s cheeks under him and spreads them open with a finger inside. Cas jolts up with mouth opening in pleasure. The sound he makes. Dean stretches him, then makes the second finger. Cas calls his name and Dean takes that and enjoys slipping his tongue to him. He enjoys running his mouth on his throat. Enjoys making Castiel harder as he jacks his hot cock in his hand. The third finger penetrates and Cas is hugging Dean.

He spits on his fingers and runs the drill till he feels Cas flexible enough. Warm breath on the angel’s ear, he murmurs.

“Gonna fuck you, Cas… get my cock inside you now…”

Castiel only embraces him tight. Dean straightens, put both hands on Cas’ ass, lifts him and arranges his dick to his hole. Cas moans when the blunt tip of Dean’s huge cock presses on his entrance. Dean takes a moment, then sucks on Cas’ mouth to distract the angel, the same time he pops his cock inside him, sliding in.

“Oh, Dean.” Castiel cries as Dean groans when he feels his cock digging deep inside. He can feel Castiel’s tight hole pressing on him and it’s wild. So wild. It’s insane, how so good this is. He reaches the tip, then slowly pulls an inch back, then fucks Castiel full.

“So tight… fuck I love you like this, Cas…”

Cas legs flail on Dean’s side as the hunter pounds on his hole. It’s so good and Dean wants more. He trains his eyes on Castiel and there’s no sign there of an emotionless vessel. Cas is a reflection of Dean’s own. Hard, rough and pleasured. Dean wants to see more of Castiel’s debauched expression as he fucks him hard. He finds Cas’ prostate and hits it every single time. Castiel’s moan is a turn on to Dean.

Soon it’s Cas whose riding on him and the fuck gets even intense. Dean tries to keep his eyes open for Cas, the angel also just looking at him as he fucks himself to Dean. Without warning, Dean comes again erratically, shooting everything inside.

Orgasm whittles Dean, head dropping back, Cas straddling him as he too comes all over Dean’s chest. Hot cum spills down his abdomen just as Dean pulls Castiel to another kiss, one hand guiding the angel’s dick into lazy strokes.

Cas breathes on his mouth and limps down his shoulder. Dean peppers kisses on the white smooth skin that shows no sweat, but the red marks he sucks down on it remains. Cas is in no hurry to erase them. Dick softening, Dean doesn’t let of Castiel’s cock in his hands.

“We gotta get this over, Cas…” he whispers after a moment, looking the angel in the eyes.

“I don’t want to let anyone see you naked.” Cas admits.

“It’s just showing more skin than necessary, nothing bout it.” Dean assures him, tip of his nose on Cas’ cheek, “C’mon, Cas… these are gods… they’ve seen more than enough. They won’t look twice on this beaten body.”

“Still. Does not mean I won’t hate it.”

“I love it when you’re jealous.” Dean smiles, snaking both hands on his lover’s warm hips, to his curve waist as he kisses him softly. “But nothing’s gonna happen. They know you’ll bite. We gotta do this, okay?”

It takes Castiel a moment.

“Okay.”

* * *

“Cas… it’s okay…” Dean says, sitting up on the stone table in his birthday suit while the angel stands beside him watching him sullenly. Behind him, Bacchus and Prometheus have returned with the Titan keeping his distance by the wall, arms crossed. Dean calls his attention again. “Hey. You don’t have to stay here for this if it’s making you uncomfortable, Cas, I’ll be fine.”

“You think I’ll leave with you practically a dish served on the table?”

“The best part’s covered.” Dean says cheekily, patting on his crotch where a small mantel modestly covers his front. Cas pats his legs and kisses him one more time before Bacchus rounds on the table. Dean slowly lies on the cold stone, adjusting his shoulders for comfort. Castiel doesn’t move, only watches him and he smiles up at him.

Bacchus stops just opposite Castiel, his lidded bored eyes staring from the angel, and then down at Dean—before his eyes rove at the man’s body. Dean tenses when he feels the demi-god’s eyes stop on the mantle—but he isn’t able to finish the thought because _shit, Cas’ quick hand is on the Bacchus’ lapel, drawing him close with a jerk of his hand._

_“Stop looking around.” _Castiel’s gravelly voice can make someone pee in his pants. Sexy, alluring and goddamit, Dean thinks he’s aroused again.

“Cas…” he calls.

Castiel remains scowling as he lets go of Bacchus who returns the gaze of the angel but there is a curious look in his eyes and the way he’s looking at Cas now is making Dean uncomfortable.

“Are we gonna get this done with or you want me here for another two days?”

Bacchus essentially ignores him. Addressing Castiel, he gestures to the table and then at Dean.

“You have to allow me—”

“No.”

Dean sees the frustration settle in Bacchus’ eyes and couldn’t help pressing a small smile at how Cas being so consciously protective is making him feel giddy.

Castiel keeps his eyes at Bacchus, who narrowed his black eyes, but is unable to keep the intensity of the angel’s gaze. He drops his eyes and looks over to Prometheus who sighs in exasperation. Dean knows where Cas is coming from and it pleases him to know Castiel actually is _that _possessive of him. But they both know getting naked is the easy part than to what’s coming next. Bacchus seems to understand he will have no skin of Dean touched while Castiel is around so he just looks at Prometheus who nods at him.

Bacchus looks down at Dean’s eyes. Dean’s already paying attention with Cas still standing close.

“This pentacle shall reveal the true nature concealed behind your possession.”

“Possession…” Dean repeats the word in his mouth. He watches Bacchus stared down his chest, to his anti-possession tattoo and then hovers both hands on top of it. Then he begins chanting in a dialect not even recognizable as Latin. Dean tenses but Cas’ reassuring hand on his shoulder kept him from jumping up. Soon the wind picks up and Bacchus’ voice echoes in the underground.

Then Dean hears it come—it’s more than close this time, it’s right behind him—Dean yells in pain as his body begins to burn—he’s being tortured to pieces. The sound of hooves comes closer and closer it’s almost as if Dean’s making the sound.

Warm hands cups his face as he yells and Dean can’t recognize anyone—until something springs out of his chest—on to the air making a cloud of smoke. Dean gasps, but someone’s holding him tightly. Someone familiar, someone he loves.

Cas cradles him on his arms. “Dean!”

Dean reaches out but before he could, a wild sound of an animal unlike they have ever heard pierces their ears. Looking up, both hunter and angel watched as the cloud of smoke slowly forms into hind legs, tusks and red glowing eyes—

Then it scatters and disappears, leaving Prometheus and Bacchus staring into the air while Castiel immediately turns to the hunter.

“Dean? Dean, are you alright?”

Castiel’s tight grip on his shoulder is enough to assure Dean he is safe. He licks his dry lips and nods, barely moving his head. He doesn’t realize how cold he is until Cas wipes the sweat on his forehead.

“Dean…”

“It’s as we expected. The servant of Mars.”

Someone approaches behind Cas and Dean sees Prometheus watching them with Bacchus right on his heel. Suddenly he feels stupid and berates himself for acting so weak in front of the Titan. He tries to wriggle out of Cas but the angel would not have any of it. To Dean’s chagrin, Castiel doesn’t answer but slides both his arms one around the hunter’s shoulder and under his legs. He secures Dean’s position so he is mostly leaning on Cas, hiding his body in plain view. On the floor lay the small mantle, forgotten.

“I need a room.” Cas tells Prometheus before walking out of the underground with Dean tucked on his arms. Dean wiggles again when they reach the top floor and he receives a glare for that and it reminded him that no matter how bulky of a man he is, this is still an angel grasping his body.

“Quit moving, Dean.”

_“Wanna walk.”_ He croaks.

Cas ignores him.

“Cas… I’m fine.” Because from his angle on Castiel’s arm, head propped on his chest, Dean can tell Castiel is far from worried. Far from anger.

No. This Cas is afraid.

“Cas…”

“Stay still.”

Dean reaches a hand and suddenly pinches Cas’ nose. The angel pauses but doesn’t flinch. When Dean lowers his fingers, he finds Castiel staring down at him with glinting eyes. Dean blinks, then manages a grin.

“Scared ya?”

“You little…” his voice is hoarse, like there’s something stuck in his pipe. But Dean sees more than that. He sees real water in his blue eyes.

“Cas…?”

It happened so fast. Castiel gently kneels on the ground and settles Dean’ close to him, embracing him so tight, the hunter feels his ribs crack. But he doesn’t pull away. He lets the angel tightened his grip on his arm, let Castiel cross his arms behind him and pull him close. Even in his silent weeping that did not even make a sound in the empty hall, Dean feels him crumble.

And it hurt him too.

“Cas…” he chokes, cupping the angel’s face with both his palms and forcing the angel to look him in the eyes. “Cas, it’s okay. I’m fine… you’re fine…”

Cas leans on his touch and embrace him again.

“Never…” Cas whispers on Dean’s ears, “I’m never going to leave you again.”

* * *

As much as Castiel wants him to rest, Dean is no way feeling any tired. The scratch of the mark above his tattoo and what it can cost them has always been at the back of his mind, suppressed by his worry about Castiel, their situation and _Romans._ Not to mention the added stress in the person of Prometheus who seems unable to pry away his eyes from the angel and would find ways to engage him, even touch him in little ways. It annoys Dean, but Cas’ persistent to stay beside him after the horrific revelation in the underground satisfied any of Dean’s curiosity about what Cas may feel for the Titan.

So, it is after an hour that Dean finds himself situated in the middle of a long oak table with Castiel beside him, in a very large hall of brick stones with bright candles on metal chandeliers with the fireside roaring at the heart of the room. The dining table is presently occupied by himself, Castiel and Prometheus. There’s already a serve meal by Bacchus who Dean can’t see anywhere but he is grateful to the hot soup in a bowl warming his hands.

Prometheus sits opposite them and though his sky-blue eyes would stray to Cas most of the time, Dean can see grim curiosity in the glances he throws Dean. The hunter takes two large gulps from the bowl, feel warmth in his stomach and sighs. Putting it down, he looks the Titan square in the eyes.

“C’mon, drop the bomb.” He says casually that finally draws the Titan’s attention focus on him. “What the hell was that about?”

Prometheus stares at him warily. “I am not sure you are in the right mind and body to know—”

“Believe me, I’ve dealt with worse.” Dean unconsciously reaches for his right arm where the Mark of Cain had laid. Cas wraps a hand on his arm forearm, knowing without saying anything what Dean is thinking.

“I think being straightforward is important.” The angel says quietly but there’s pressure in the way he squeezes Dean’s arm. “I am not much familiar with the lore of the Pagans, but I do know of certain beasts of the same form. What I don’t understand is why it would come out of as the representation of the curse?”

“The god of war is known for many symbolic animals them being the forms of rooster, a dog—”

“It wasn’t a minotaur?” Dean asks a little dismayed. Cas casts a disapproving glare in his direction.

“No, Dean. It was not. Why would you think it’s the monster of the labyrinth?”

“It’s…. uh…” Dean shifts and looks down his mug sheepishly. Cas doesn’t need to hear it, but the angel looks as if he has a good guess what Dean is thinking. _‘Cooler’_ might be inappropriate at the moment, but the sound of hooves has convinced him it was something larger and way intimidating. A dog isn’t really—

“It’s a boar to be precise.” Prometheus looks directly at Dean. “And one of the deadliest of it’s kind. The gods do not just lay curse on anyone, and a boar does not heed positive meaning on any culture. Mars may have intentionally branded you this creature for a reason and pray you do not meet it along the way.”

“Why?”

“Because it’s a symbol of your death.”

It should sound ominous, but Dean only nods slowly. He’s heard that before.

“You do not look too bothered by the mention of your own death.” Says Bacchus who appears on Dean’s left side carrying a thick gray blanket. Before anyone could react, the demi-god pulls on the material and wraps it around Dean’s shoulder with a lingering squeeze Dean does not miss. There’s a moment of pause—and then Dean’s gritting his teeth because Castiel is gripping on his arm tightly, almost tugging him close. He glances at the angel only to see his blue eyes at him with lips tight.

“He is right. You do not look afraid.” Now Prometheus is giving Dean another curious stare the hunter meets halfway. One arm turning almost white at Cas’ attempt to keep him close, the hunter shrugs.

“You live, you die. Been there, done that.”

“Ah.” Now Prometheus is looking at Castiel with understanding. “I see.”

Dean scowls at him and doesn’t mind Cas clinging. “So what, you think a boar will attack me, is that what you’re saying? I get to be killed by a boar?”

“In a manner of speaking. The War God seems to find it necessary that you die not by his spear, but by the same creature he has used to slay another being he has deplored.”

“Not to be rude, but being a war god, hating someone seems a cliché. I bet he’s murdered plenty of humans just cause they struck a nerve.”

“You seem to have done the same thing, otherwise he’d have given you a painless death.”

Now Dean is smiling cheekily. “Yeah, people say I tend to do that a lot. Get on their nerves.”

Prometheus narrows his eyes but it is at that moment that Bacchus, who walked around the table in silence, stops beside him.

“The bedroom chambers are prepared.”

The Titan nods, gestures for Cas and Dean to take more on their plate but seeing their mutual tired faces, Prometheus stands up to finally lead them to their room.

“Please, make yourselves feel at home.” Prometheus says as they are led inside the big atrium no lesser than 20 feet tall with highly decorated walls and ceiling lit by numerous candles and torches on every stone Corinthian column. Dean takes his time roaming his eyes at the intricate symmetrical designs of floral carvings. The dome high above their heads has this circular face in the middle surrounded by what appears to be rays of the sun. Colorful paintings and rich linen cover the tall windows by the entrance while statues stood in corners ominously. Prometheus stops beside the angel and slides an arm on his shoulder, guiding him in. Cas’ hand slips out from Dean’s shoulder and Dean sulks behind them. At their rear is Bacchus who silently eyes the new visitors with narrowed eyes.

“This feels very… weird…” Dean tells Cas who is walking beside him.

“Which one?” Cas inquires.

“This… walking with an angel… Titans and demigods…” he pulls the blanket closer.

“Are you cold?”

“Nah, just making do.”

Cas pulls him in a one arm embrace and Dean’s slightly pleased as they walk closer together.

“You’re having sex with an angel, why are you still surprise by all of this?”

Dean nearly chokes and blinks teary eyed at the Titan walking two feet from them. He throws a dirty look at the angel who is smiling warmly at him, hand sliding possessively on his waist.

“You’re a dirty player, y’know that?”

Cas rolls his eyes. “Let’s get you warmed up in your room, Dean.”

“Cas, you don’t need to babysit me, I can manage.” he gives him an exaggerated roll of eyes to which Castiel only narrowed his own.

“I know you can, but there really is no point in letting you when we can do this together.” Castiel says decidedly, taking his arm and looking over his shoulder at Bacchus. “I leave you one second and everyone wants you.”

Dean harks a chuckle that boomed in the corridor. Prometheus turns, waiting for them to catch up and falls in the step of the angel too but Cas only politely returns his queries. He doesn’t let go of Dean.

Once the angel has decided, it seems no one else has the ability to change his mind. But then that has always been one of Cas’ daunting abilities as a warrior of heaven, leader of the rebellion and overall, just stubborn Cas. Dean enjoyed their proximity very much especially since he knows Prometheus is within the line of sight, of Castiel pulling him close in a half-drag, half-maneuver stance and Dean lets him. Bacchus leads them to a wide staircase with baroque based spindles heading to a turn on a bricked wall lit by a torch. The second landing corridor is a little narrower and on every step of the way new oak doors present themselves. It did not take them long to locate the guest room reserved for Dean. Once or twice Prometheus tried to engage Cas in a talk or divert his attention to a certain part of the house, but the angel is so focused on keeping Dean next to him that all attempts were in vain.

By the time Bacchus has opened the guest room, Dean is already smiling from ear to ear that only Cas letting go has him realize that Prometheus is speaking to him.

“…Bacchus will also prepare a cleaner and more appropriate tunic for you. Will this room suffice your needs?”

“I uh…” Dean blinks and looks around him.

The room is huge. Marble made the walls covered in grand artistic carving with more than four columns and a window leading to a balcony covered in velvet blue curtain. Small torches hung on the columns that lit up but not enough to cover the shadows of the high walls, creating a dismal atmosphere of mystery. There is an empty fireplace across the room where a long red reclining chair above thick carpet stands. The bed in itself is more than enough for five rooms in the bunker combined with white sheets enough to support six tents in succession.

The hunter bites his lower lip with a frown.

“You do not like it?” Bacchus asks with uncertainty.

“No, not it’s fine.” Dean nods at the demigod, “But… it’s a bit… grand and there’s only me.”

“Well, I’ll be staying here too so you don’t have to feel overwhelmed.” Cas says in a deadpan and Dean just shrugs at him—then jolts back and stares the angel standing by his shoulder with wide eyes.

“Castiel, there is no need to be so reserved, there is enough room to accommodate an entire street. You have your own room next to mine.” Prometheus smiles encouragingly as if it was all a big misunderstanding.

Dean only glances at him because he knows Cas better and when the angel says he’ll stay, then—

“No, I’ll stay with Dean.” Castiel repeats firmly, already walking in the middle of the room with all purpose, eyes scanning the entire vicinity like a sniff dog securing the area for his master. “Angels do not sleep and I always watch over Dean since the beginning. I do not see any reason to alter that now especially in a place we hardly know. Where is the bathroom?” he shoots the inquiring look at Bacchus.

“Entrance by the fireside. There is a small pool with all the commodities needed.”

“What about the water temperature? Cold?”

“Uh…”

“Worry not, I can warm it for him with my grace. There really is no need for you to take care of Dean, I can manage. The new clothes however will be very much appreciated.”

“Of course.” Bacchus bows. Prometheus looks about to say something but decides not to, his eyes following the angel.

Dean watches Cas walk around the room to the close window leading to the balcony and checked the wooden locks. Satisfied, the angel turns back to him and the powerful blue eyes of the angel has Dean standing straight. Wait—what is he doing? When did Cas become the boss here? He blinks at the intense gaze until the angel averts it to their hosts.

“Thank you very much for the hospitality, Prometheus.”

“Not at all,” the Titan steps in the room till he and Cas meet halfway by the bed. “Are you sure you want to stay here? You have your own room—”

“I’ll stay.”

Dean is sure Prometheus saw the determination there and pushed no further.

“Very well. I shall be sending Bacchus back for the clothes and then tomorrow’s breakfast… will you be the one to serve this… _Dean, _Castiel?”

Dean thinks he saw the Titan just throw him one of his looks of dagger and finds it interesting. The hunter casually walks around the room while the two exchange words, wondering if the two will ever get separated till Bacchus is opening the door to leave. Dean turns just in time to see Prometheus nonchalantly drops a kiss on the side of Castiel’s lips.

“Good night, _Dean._” Prometheus says like poisoned ivy. Dean grimaces at him. Okay, now he’s in the hitlist of a Titan all because of jealousy. _That feels so good._

“See you.”

The oak door closes after him.

Dean scowls and raises an eyebrow when Castiel turns to face him.

_“I leave you one second and everyone wants you.”_ He throws the angel’s sentiment right back at him. Cas tilts his head.

“That’s still three on two, Dean.”

“Three on two—?”

Castiel walks to his space, reaches a hand on the blanket behind Dean and flickers it away on to the floor. Dean is magnetized when he leans close to Cas, their bodies colliding. A playful smile lingers on the hunter’s lips as he slides hands on Cas’ shoulders, rubbing his muscles. He slides his hands next to the small of the angel’s back, down to his hips to the curve of his ass cheeks, cupping them and grinding their hips together. He kisses Cas lightly before looking in his eyes.

Castiel stares at him hauntingly.

“You think I didn’t notice how he looked at you?” Cas growls, pulling Dean in for another chaste kiss.

“Ditto.”

They kiss. Open lips, hot and warm, then more passionate. With vigor, Dean pushes Cas on the bed, following after his lithe body o and peppering kisses on the angel’s neck. Dean presses a knee between Castiel’s legs, feeling the warm welcome of his already reacting bulge that excites him further. Castiel reaches hands to take Dean close as Dean

_“Adonis.”_

Still flushed, Dean pulls up an inch. Castiel is only just looking at him again. Dean smiles.

“I making you feel so good you forget my name?”

Castiel just blinks. His eyes are too mesmerizing, too heavy to meet.

“Uh… not to be picky, Cas, but I’d rather you not calling some other names while I fuck you, okay? That’s not cool even if the name is kinda flattering.” Then Dean frowns in worry, “You—_ Adonis is not another ex, right?”_

Castiel puts a hand behind Dean’s neck and strokes there. It feels so good but Dean doesn’t pull his eyes away. “So did you and this Adonis—?”

“No.” Cas replies shortly, “What makes you think I’ve had other connections this intimate to anyone other than you?”

“Well—”

“Before you, I’m just an angel, Dean. No passion for anything saved to serve heaven. Other beings’ emotions and affections were foreign to me… I was only able to understand them because of you… because you made me feel them… made me fall for you unconsciously from the beginning.”

Dean sucks air and nips on that sharp jawline.

“Then why’re you sayin this Adonis… you think I’m one?” he trails his wet mouth along Cas’ earlobe, making him look on the side to give him more access to skin.

“I’m not the only one who thinks so. Everyone seems to make an Adonis of you… because you are that beautiful, Dean.”

“You don’t need to flatter me anymore, babe, I’m all yours.”

“Adonis died.”

Dean pauses biting on that soft neck and raises himself to give Castiel a grim look on his face.

“Let’s take a rewind, uh… I don’t think we’re going near that sexy end.”

Castiel shakes his head. “I’m sorry.” But the way his eyes flits uncomfortably has Dean touching his cheek and make him look back at him again.

“Hey… what is it? This Adonis story that important?”

Cas doesn’t answer so Dean sits up, all energy gone. Castiel pulls up too and Dean hates the way he shifts back to the board of the bed, two arms away.

“Cas?” Dean kneels in worry.

“Adonis… is a human being that fell on Mars’ wrath.” The angel explains, not looking at him. Dean slowly gets where this is going and crawls slowly to Cas. He puts a hand gently on Castiel’s knee, drawing himself closer to his body between his legs while the angel speaks, “It has been told Adonis is a lover of Venus who then is a lover of the war god. Out of jealousy and betrayal, Mars sends his boar to Adonis one day, piercing his stomach and killing him.”

“Yeah, but I’m no Adonis and I didn’t make him any jealous.” Dean is now close to Cas again, hands entwining. “So why’s he so hung up on me?”

“I think that’s just it… he thinks you’re another Adonis.”

“If that’s his only reason, I should be flattered, shouldn’t I? No matter how stupid it is.” He doesn’t hesitate to press his lips on Cas. Cas responds almost too possessively. He slowly guides Castiel’s body beneath him, again. Enjoying every sensation that Castiel is his, is there with him and letting him.

“Dean…” Cas whispers when Dean gently pins his hands on each of his side, clearly trying to take the reins because it feels like Cas is going to fly away from him any second. It feels like Cas wants to do something about their current predicament, but doesn’t seem to know where to start. Cas is too tense and Dean is sure to do something about that.

“You really think this war god’s gonna make an Adonis of me?” he asks more in amusement than fear. Dean doesn’t fear anything, that much is obvious but it reflects on Castiel’s eyes anyway.

“The signs are there.”

“You gonna let him?” Dean adjusts his hips, pushing his legs on each of the angel’s thighs, spreading his legs wide. Castiel suddenly is gripping on Dean’s shoulder with a fierce look in his eyes, the answer so clear.

“No.”

“Fuck, you’re so hot.”

Legs dangling on Dean’s, too vulnerable but still staring right back at him too fierily, Dean leans down, takes hold of the angel’s half hard cock and rubs a thumb on its head, the hunter speaks low again.

“Don’t ever show anyone this view, Cas. I’ll murder them.”

Cas nods, breathe changing rapidly as Dean strokes his cock.

“Dean…”

“Cas I wanna fuck you.”

_“Do.”_

Dean is pleased when his cock slides smoothly inside and groans at the pleasure. Castiel is still too flexible for him, too wet from their recent encounter that Dean just slides in and out, beginning slow and jerking forward. He can feel the rub of his skin in Cas’ hole, friction to friction. Then he begins to fuck the angel in earnest, slap of skin to skin louder every time.

Castiel presses his eyes close, letting himself feel the pleasure. Dean angles a little, a hand on the head board as he enjoys jolting Cas’ body.

_Fuck. _Dean closes his eyes, the action of his hips getting rougher after each pull. He finds Cas’ prostate because the angel moans and arches his body. That’s when Dean hits him the most, going harder, chasing both their orgasms. He loves the way Cas’ cock is huge in his hand as he pumps on him and the erratic beat plus hitting the right spot has the angel coming in no time, his cum spurting on Dean’s hand. Dean’s eyes glints and his desire grows. He fucks Castiel in abandon, not giving any space as his balls slaps on bare skin. With a growl, he covers Castiel’s body with his own, gripping on their entwine hands as he shoots inside, biting the angel on the shoulder as his orgasm overcomes him.

Bliss. All there is bliss. 

Sleep is not impossible as Cas adjusts Dean’s body on his side. Dean sighs when his already softening cock slides out of the angel but Cas embraces him warmly. Nose tucking on the side of the angel’s neck, Dean pulls Cas into a tight hug, legs tangling between the other, heaves of breath like music for company. There’s no room for coldness, only intimacy.

In the middle of the long night, Dean murmurs his affection on the angel’s ears.

He sleeps with the shape of Castiel’s smile on his cheeks.

* * *

He only becomes aware of the brightening glow when he blinks, a little disoriented. He doesn’t recognize his surrounding, nor does he remember how he got there, but it looked like a giant hall with open ceiling, the heavy moonlight casting his shadow on the floor. Dean gasps when he gets a hold of himself but a voice so unnerving sends his adrenaline spiking into wakefulness.

_“Adonis.” _

Dean’s heart nearly jumps out of his chest. There’s a woman by the fountain clad in transparent silky material so light it looks even alive. The being’s skin glows ethereally in bright, her expression pale and terrorizing, her long hair as if with the life of its own. The hunter pauses a moment, then frowns. What the hell is he doing there?

_Who…?_

She is as impassive, as deadly and beautiful at the same time. Her eyes are magnificent shade of purple. She isn’t human, that much is obvious and Dean’s instinct to defend himself at the same time figure out her nature kicks in.

Red lips. So full, so red lips.

“Dean!”

Dean looks behind him to Castiel running on the corridor, expression alarmed. The hunter watches the angel reach his side without any idea why he’s not speaking. Strong arms take him quickly, and Cas is hugging him tight, hot breath on Dean’s neck. The hunter frowns and puts hands on his waist, pushing only enough to see him.

Cas takes his cheeks—their eyes meeting.

“Dean—Dean, are you okay?”

The hunter blinks again, his eyes found Cas’ moving chapped lips. He nods.

Cas doesn’t believe him. The angel touches his lips with the pad of his thumb and looks about him, trying to see if anything is amiss with the hunter. Dean gulps.

“M’fine.” He mumbles and the exhale he gives surprises even him. Cas’ eyes water for some reason and without a word—the angel takes Dean’s lips into his.

Dean welcomes his it with a sigh of relief like one of them nearly died. Maybe one almost did.

“Would you look at that?”

Dean shoots a look at Prometheus wearing his long white robe with Bacchus a step behind him. Both beings are looking at the fountain, where Dean now spies, empty. He blinks in confusion as Castiel pulls his face in his firm hands again, but the hunter wants to see the Titan. It all goes back to him—how he and Cas are in this messy ancient time with no idea how to finish the job.

Cas pulls his face again, this time firmly.

“Did she do anything to you?”

“I…” Dean blinks again, unable to find words. What the fuck…

“Dean.” Cas looks steady and firm with only his eyes showing genuine concern. “What did she tell you?”

“I don’t know… what happened?”

“I closed my eyes to rest for a moment…then you weren’t there…” Cas whispered, almost imploring.

“I’ll tell you one thing.” Prometheus says from the side, making both Dean and Castiel look at him with the angel only pulling Dean close like he’ll pop and disappear any moment.

“What?” Dean is still not fully sure why he sounds aggressive.

Prometheus raises eyebrows.

_“I’ve never had the god of beauty visit me for any reason save now. _Who would’ve thought it’d take a man like you to prompt this action? And by standard—_that is something.”_

Bacchus gives Dean a look of curiosity but Dean only blinks at them.

_What now?_

_ _


	11. Truth in Wine

_ ** ** _

_ **In Vino Veritas** _

* * *

_“We need to get the Fire quick, and no, I’m not asking.”_

Cas tells Dean in the empty courtyard of Prometheus’ villa early that morning with the sun scorching the hunter’s bareback as he puts effort on chopping firewood. It’s nothing new to him, and no he doesn’t really have to do it at all, but he needs to do something while figuring out their additional problem—of Dean getting zeroed on in by gods for some fucking reason.

And Cas is not so pleased about that and goes on following Dean around. Not that he doesn’t usually do it, but Cas has been more watchful ever since Prometheus told them of the goddess’s possible intent. The short talk in the dining hall before breakfast haunted Dean as he bends down to pick the chopped woods and throw them on the pile he’s already making.

Castiel is still talking and Dean lets him. He knows Cas is more worried than he’s letting on, and when the angel is worried it shows in many ways like gripping him from perdition or throwing him inside their room and never letting him out—like he promised. Dean frowns as another raise of arms and tuck—the wood falls in two and he bents down again—

_“What the fuck are you doing?”_

Dean turns and sees Castiel sitting by the stone bench and table, starring at him oddly with focused eyes on his ass. The hunter smiles and wiggles his backside before straightening.

“If you’re trying to distract me, it’s working.” Cas growls but he only sits still. Dean grins at him and puts the wooden axe down and leans elbows on it.

“C’mon, Cas, you don’t really believe that crap about Venus actually wanting me, do you?”

Cas tilts his head, considers this blasphemy maybe. “But you are very beautiful.”

Dean gives the angel a smug look. “And I threaten her? Next thing there’ll be a poisonous apple…?”

“I got that reference. You’re speaking of the Golden Apple of Discord.”

“What—no. That’s not even poisoned, Cas.”

“I believe hearing it was. I was there.”

“_What—?”_

“It doesn’t matter. You are very beautiful, Dean. Everyone—and I mean _every single one of any worlds _wants a piece of you.” Dean chuckles. It’s a good thing Cas is cute because if any other guy flirted with him like this, he’ll be sending them on an ambulance by now. Those fuckling blue eyes only trained on him? Can’t get enough of that one.

“Well, the whether the world likes me or now, apparently not ‘everyone’ coz some nerdy angel is still ignoring my attempt of seduction.” He licks his lips and winks at Cas who fights a smile on his lips, before sighing.”

“Dean—take this seriously. It’s already concerning enough what Mars has done to you. Now to have another god eyeing you—I don’t think it’s something we should put on to later when we come to it. I want you safe—_I need you safe.”_

“And you’re still not moving.”

There’s a beat where the two just stares at each other, and then Cas is on his feet, closing their distance shortly. He reaches a hand behind Dean’s neck and pulls him in a long, hot kiss. Dean enjoys the sensation of Cas’ lively approach with his stubble jaw brushing on Dean’s. Their chests are magnetized with Cas’ other hand on Dean’s bare chest, right above his chest.

They pull away, both lips wet, their eyes meaningful.

“You’re hot, Dean.”

Grin giggles and winks. Castiel scowls.

“Thank you.”

“No, I mean… you’ve been standing under the sun… too much exposure on your skin can be concerning… why did you have to pull out your clothes?” but there's an interested glint in those blue eyes that Dean didn't miss. He smirks and makes a point of lowering his face so their only inches close. Castiel meets his eyes fondly.

“If you call that rag a cloth, I’m wearing loin cloths.” Dean smirks, lifting Cas’ chin with two fingers and pressing a chaste kiss on them, “you complainin’ about me naked now?”

“No.” Cas bites on Dean’s bottom lip with a wet sound the pulls away, licking his lips. “But only if there are others who will see… I said you are beautiful, Dean. I meant it. They notice it, they can see pass your body—they can also see your soul. You shine the brightest here… like a beacon, much, much brighter than the sun…”

“Alright, Mr. Poet, enough flirting.” Dean grins into the next kiss they share. He lets go of the axe to get hold of the angel’s neck, pulling him close as they breathe into the kiss. When they stop, Cas quietly puts his forehead on Dean’s neck.

“Dean… let me protect you.”

Dean shoves his nose on Cas’ hair, burying his senses with the angel’s presence as he embraces him tight. “You can try.”

“We need to get the Fire.”

“We will.”

“We cannot wait until the rebirth of the Mithra, Dean.”

Dean opens his eyes, then pulls away from the embrace frowning. He finds what he expects—Castiel looking back at him with determined blue eyes and ready argument. They've been going at this in circles. The moment they ended up in Ancient Rome, no, the moment Cas realized Dean's life is in jeopardy, the angel has always made it his life mission to only concentrate on Dean. That can't have been good for relationship. The hunter sighs.

“Cas, we can’t—”

“It wasn’t a question.” Cas repeats simply.

“Cas, you understand we’re putting other people’s lives in danger if we take that fire now?”

“I do.” Cas meets his green eyes squarely. “But the way things are now, we can’t stay here anymore… it’s putting you at risk. And these people… they’ve been dead for a long time, Dean.”

“They are alive now.” Dean insists, voice going stronger, “You want to put on record of who killed them most? It's gonna be on our history too, Cas!" He sees Castiel not willing too budge.

“Whatever happens from here is already over in your time, Dean. What we do here, had already happened and written in history. We may be involve, but if it's something necessary to shape the future, then we should. But I'm not losing you here."

"Cas." Dean says firmly, "Stop acting like you can only are about me while other people die in front of you. That's not how we roll, man. We save people, that's our priority."

Castiel looks away, almost blurring with unshed tears and Dean hates himself a million times for making the angel sad again. Why can't he keep his damn trap shut? But it's necessary that Castiel understands this is not what he wants. Necessary for both of them to remember they can't always save everybody. That Cas can't always save Dean. Dean shudders to think of the opposite idea. That he can't save Castiel too. It leaves doubt in his grounded choice. Cas looks lost for a moment, then looks back squinting and deadpan.

“I don’t really care. I have a duty to you. I will do what I have to.”

_“Cas.” _Dean grits his teeth in warning.

“Prometheus agrees with me. This is the fastest way—”

“Oh, so now you’re listening to your ex? He doesn’t get to decide what’s better for me!” Dean stiffens and he chews his lips, clearly angry. Castiel blinks as he observes that.

“It’s exactly why it should be me. I don’t think you can be objective about this.”

“Objective? _Cas—we’re talking about possibly getting innocent people in danger! This is Rome! You know what they do to people here when they drop a pinball on rulemakers? They get killed!”_

“It is unfortunate they do not have the gods on their side, then.” Castiel turns— Dean stops him angrily, a hand pulling him back.

“No—we’re not doing that! You know the roll! We’re killin no virgins!”

Castiel and Dean are fuming, both eyes blazing in their eyes as they stare at each other this time. Dean understands what Cas is saying, Cas has always been steadfast on things he needed to do—to prioritize amongst other things even before he fell from heaven. Dean has never forgotten that Castiel is a soldier, but that’s precisely why he’s beside the angel, to keep him from doing habitual self-sacrifices only because he feels it’s his duty to save the Winchesters. Cas is twisted like that. Adorably, most faithfully, twisted.

Someone steps into the courtyard. Dean sees him from the corner of his eyes. He doesn’t greet Prometheus with warm eyes. But Dean lets his hand slide down to his side when he sees the Titan looking at the tight grip he has on the angel.

Castiel turns too. “Prometheus.”

“You don’t have to blame Castiel.” Prometheus begins with underlying warning in his deep voice, his handsome features grim as he addresses Dean. “I was the one who insisted he convinces you.”

Dean sees red for some reason, and nothing more than the thought of Cas finding time to speak in private with the Prometheus. When did that happen? When he was washing his face in the bathroom? This angers him to the point that his body moves on its own even before his brain—which also was goading him to punch the balls right out of the Titan’s pretty face.

He slams his hand on Prometheus’ chest and takes a handful of his toga.

“Get away from Cas!” he blares.

_“Dean!” _Castiel’s hands are pulling on his arm, ripping him away from the Titan. “Stop it—let him go, it’s not his fault! I brought the idea!”

_“Then you both need to take a step back—we’re not going to put any lives just because of me!”_

Dean breathes heavily, eyes still glaring. He hates how Prometheus is just looking at him condescendingly. Like Dean is an idiot. Dean hates that Cas is taking his side too. What the fuck is happening?

“Then you really are a fool.”

Dean’s eyes flash and he’s about to bury his fist on the Titan’s face but Castiel grab it back— there’s a scuffle and Dean finds himself getting pulled back by the angel.

_“Enough! Get a grip, Dean! I’m doing this for you!”_

_“I didn’t ask you!”_

“Then maybe Castiel is wrong in placing his faith in you. Isn’t the point of being together the ability to put faith? It seems to be all over the place for the two of you with this little mishap.”

“Well—if you think you can be any better—”

“I am.” Prometheus says sincerely. Then his eyes fall on Castiel. “I will if you let me.”

Dean feels an icy stab in his stomach at the blatant confession. He takes a moment, then attempts to shoot a fist on the Titan’s face—never learning his lesson of cracking bones but he will gladly welcome it except Castiel has viper hold on his waist.

“Dean—”

But Dean sees it when he turns at the angel. Castiel is giving Prometheus a mystified look that disappears when Cas notices him looking. That gets Dean’s confidence spiraling. He can't have... that's impossible, right? He looks from Cas to Prometheus then shakes his head. No, he won't be dealing with that so instead of squirming to be free, he takes Castiel’s wrist.

“Let’s go.” He glowers, pulling the angel but Cas doesn’t move. Dean whirls at him. “_Dammit, Cas—!_

“We have to talk about this.” Cas insists, “I want you safe, Dean—”

“And I’m not on the same page so either you both drop it or I go.” Dean growls. Castiel doesn’t move._Fuck. _It wrenches something in his guts. “So you’re choosing him?” because even if it was only a glimpse- there's that look of something akin to wonder in those blue that Dean had always loved seeing when it's directed to him. Call it interest, call it wonder... call it whatever, but Dean doesn't like it. He tugs away from Cas who looks at him in alarm.

“What? No- Dean—”

“Yeah, I get it. Hope it makes you happy.” yeah, Dean Winchester's incredibly mature.

“Dean—!” 

Dean doesn’t turn and stomps his way onto the stone floor leading inside the villa, leaving Castiel and the Titan.

* * *

Ten minutes later, he didn’t think it possible to get lost in the villa when he only remembers walking on a straight corridor. But now that he stops and sees the dark hallway and eerily cold ceiling, with all of it not in his memory, he knows he’s lost.

Dean grinds his teeth and slams his fist on the wall that echoed along the emptiness. His guts is eating him. He knows he shouldn’t have acted that way, that Cas only want to protect him, but the way Cas had looked at Prometheus—like there’s a new discovery in there—and the fact that it’s Castiel only angers Dean further. Because he knows Cas will never… that Cas will always choose him.

He knows he shouldn’t have left Castiel. Not with Prometheus but he did. He can only blame himself later. But... was it possible... that Cas likes...? No, that's insane. Castiel only has eyes on him. Castiel will always choose him. Cas will never let anyone take him and it's the same so why the fucking god is he feeling insecure over a passing look?

Dean feels a hand on his elbow to find Bacchus staring down at him. “You are bleeding.”

“Glad you noticed.” Dean snaps, pulling his had away and wiping the blood on the side of his tunic. He glares at his knuckles, but the pain is endurable as it is.

“Where is your master?”

Dean glares. “I don’t have a—you mean Cas? He’s not my master.”

“That’s hard to believe.”

Dean frowns. “Bacchus huh… so what do you do here, do you just pop behind people asking about their masters cause you plan on doing something naughty?”

The demigod doesn’t reply but the way his eyebrow levels into a curt expression makes Dean stare at him. There’s something about this guy that ticks him the wrong way. Like a douche way.

“You shouldn’t be wandering around alone, this villa is not familiar to you.”

“I’m not a kid, dammit.”

“Doesn’t have to do with age, only there are parts of the villa that should not be accessible to outsiders.”

“You think I’m snoopin around? For what? Roman gold?”

“I think you’re angry and lost. It must be the absence of the angel, I assume.”

“You assume too much.” Dean studies Bacchus, then scratches his head. Was it that obvious?

“Hey, Bacchus? What do I need to do to get a strong drink around here?”

Bacchus’s intimidating scarred look didn’t scare Dean at all. “You merely need to ask.”

“Yeah, but who’s gonna take it? Do I click my hands, snap fingers or beg?”

“I am the only one left among the servants. You hardly need to beg.”

“Yeah, but I’m no master either so if we’re doing a role reversal and we’re both servants, who’s going to take our drinks?” Dean’s begins to grin when he sees an amused glint at the ever-scowling man. Until Dean manages to pull a smile out of him. It still feels weird to look at yellow-eyes demigod without even flinching. “You and I together I’m sure we can come up with something.” He winks.

He didn’t know what he is saying. Didn’t know why he was doing what he was doing, but Dean was sure if he was back in his own time, he’d be beat on bars drinking his ass off for letting Cas ask a favor from someone who clearly has eyes on him. Like a lamb entering a lion’s den. Dean hates that. But he isn’t sure until when this acquaintance will last and if he stays too long in their presence, he may begin raising fist and hell and before they know it, maybe Prometheus may not be that willing to help them after all.

Bacchus gives Dean a long look and the hunter gives him a sheepish smile.

“I would tell you it should be the role of our masters to serve what you wish, but since neither of us can even pull them from each other’s arm, I will assent your proposal.”

“I don’t mind serving.” Dean smirks.

“Dean?”

Dean and Bacchus look up to Castiel who is walking towards them with Prometheus in tow. Cas’ eyes is only on Dean and the way his blue eyes are so focused melts Dean because _fuck—Cas is so in love with him._ He waits for Cas to reach him, a silent apology on the hunter’s lips but Castiel suddenly hisses angrily when he sees the blood on Dean’s hands. He gives the hunter a glare, before raising his knuckles and kissing it to heal.

Dean is so mesmerized by the action.

“You have made a friend already, Bacchus?” says Prometheus proudly. Dean doesn’t even bother glaring at the Titan. He only has eyes on Cas.

Castiel gives Dean a squint, blue eyes searching while Dean only gives him a shrug. As far as Dean can tell, he is done for the day. He doesn’t want to see Castiel out of his sight. Doesn’t want to leave him with Prometheus. Doesn’t want Prometheus to see Castiel alone and angry… they should get out of there quick before he bursts like a volcano.

“Look, Cas… uh… I know you’re doing this for my sake, but I still don’t like it_._” he flickers his eyes a moment to Prometheus who raises an eyebrow, “I really don’t want this plan and if you want to do it, do it. But whatever happens after that—you don’t go blaming me how I will deal with the other shoe dropping because Cas, I won’t let anything happen to those girls.”

“Why do you care about those humans you do not even know personally?” Prometheus throws at him. But Dean is clear-headed now. Castiel watching him has that effect.

“It’s cause they’re humans like me.” He says with squared jaw. “And if taking their fire is really the best solution to not put Cas in any danger too, because of me, then do it. But while you’re at it—I will make sure those girls’ hands are clean.”

“And how do you intend to do that?”

“That’s my concern, not yours.”

“I get it.” Castile interrupts, making Dean look at him to find this gentle flicker in his blue eyes. Dean sighs when Cas puts a hand on his elbow. “I get it. We’re gonna find another way.”

Dean bites his lower lip, then pulls Cas into a hug.

“You are infuriating. But I still love you for it.” The angel whispers directly on his ears so only Dean can hear. Dean kisses his neck. Bacchus clears his throat. Castiel gives him a curious look, then pulls away, eyes training at the hunter.

“What is he doing with you here?”

“Him? No, we bumped to each other. I nearly got lost around—”

“I have given Bacchus special instructions to keep both of you comfortable, and of course to keep an eye on you, Decanus so the threat with the other gods doesn’t happen again. Anything you will need will be taken care of by Bacchus. He will be at your service if you need anything—”

“Wait—you’re giving me your servant?”

“_No.” _Cas growls.

Dean blinks and turns to Castiel. It isn’t only him, even the god and demigod both glance at the angel who doesn’t look too happy with the arrangement.

“I would like to accompany Dean to our room, Prometheus.” Castiel eyes the god without a blink, his eyebrows furrowed so seriously it takes any one to dare deny him the request. Prometheus stares at the angel while Dean can only gape at his friend. Cas is avoiding Prometheus’ eyes.

_What the fuck happened?_

Dean doesn’t like it one bit.

“I shall lead you the way.” Bacchus walks ahead of them. Dean waits for Castiel who only gives the Titan a brief look before following the demigod, ushering Dean after.

“Did something happen?” Dean asks the moment their familiar room door shuts close.

Castiel glances in his direction. “What do you mean?”

“You and Prometheus.” Dean doesn’t move from the doorway. “You seem odd… did something…?”

Castiel’s eyes widen a little. Dean’s lips thinned.

“He kissed you, didn’t he?”

“It was for a brief second.” Cas admits, looking guiltily down the floor. “He caught me by surprise but I promise you—it was just a brush of lips—"

It takes everything in Dean’s power not to storm out of the room.

“Dean…” Cas whispers, already standing in front of him. “Are we going to talk about—?”

“Why do you let him kiss you around?” Dean mumbles.

“It doesn’t mean anything.” Castiel frowns, “Prometheus has gotten used to my— umm previous vessel’s umm… let’s just say it’s a habit now as a show of his gratitude for saving him a long time ago…”

“Oh?” Dean raises both eyebrows now with arms crossing. “So if I start kissing Bacchus now and tell everyone we just do it cause of gratitude it’s alright?”

Cas looks up sharply. “Why would you be kissing him?”

“Cas, that’s how things work with everyone which is—yeah, I shouldn’t be prying on your personal affairs. Sorry about that man, you do what you have to do—” he rakes his hand on his hair uncomfortably.

“Dean—”

“I’m gonna take a shower—or a pool or whatever I find there. And no, you don’t need to heat it up.” Dean walks out of the room with tinge of red on his cheeks. The poolside is the size of their war room and library combined with lower ceiling and flickering torch on the corners. The hunter stops at the edge of the circular pool and gives a sigh.

He finds himself naked on the pool after a few minutes with enough time to relax his muscles. He sat there quietly, pondering over Cas and Prometheus’ weird, almost non-platonic relationship and Castiel’s reaction in the room. What’s gotten to Cas being too overprotective of him? Is the place dangerous? Though, Dean is in his guard, he can’t help feeling something else coming from the angel. Like he didn’t like Dean’s newly found acquaintance. That’s saying something from the angel of the lord kissing a Titan when they feel like it. Dean hunches and buries his face in the water. When he resurfaces another thought occurred to him which would be likely to explain Cas’ behavior.

That somehow, Cas is jealous. Is Cas even the jealous type? Dean shakes the water out of his ear.

Minutes later as he sits at the stone stairs deep in the pool with chest above the surface, Castiel walks in carrying clean towels and tunics. The moment his eyes falls on Dean, it hardens. Dean straightens, sitting at the obvious disapproving look on the angel’s expression.

“Why does Bacchus insist on bringing your clothes to you?” the angel stops just in front of Dean who watches him quietly, both arms open on each side, inclining on the pool’s edge. At Castiel’s pure curiosity, Dean finds himself smiling and shaking his head.

“It’s nothing. We made a deal to serve each other drinks, I mean it’s Saturnalia isn’t it? And since they don’t practice any role reversal, we just decided we’ll exchange drinks. You know, slave-slave get together for a drink.”

“Dean, you’re not my servant.” Castiel says gravely.

“Yeah, sure, look don’t take it to heart. We’re just going to drink and you know I can use the distraction.”

“Distraction from what?”

Dean doesn’t answer but stands up from where he is seated, rising up naked from head to foot as he walks up to the edge. Castiel watches him without any change in expression, eyes focus on Dean’s eyes till the hunter is a step from him. Cas tilts his head and Dean feels a different response from his body. Cas barely reacted that he is naked in front of him, but then again—Cas rebuilt him from hell—Cas already knew how he looks like. Already claimed him. The thought stirs Dean.

“Many things.” He replies, reaching out and taking his clean tunic and dark green belt from the angel’s hand. He doesn’t take his eyes off Castiel and the intensity of both not looking away heightens each second he drops each word, “Our dying world. Getting stuck here. Staying for too long… _you.”_

“Me?” Castiel blinks. Dean unconsciously drops his eyes on the angel’s plush lips. For Prometheus to be so casually kissing them, Dean really envies him. Why can’t he take it so easily, Dean could only attribute to knowing Cas so well… respecting Cas so well… loving Cas so much he doesn’t want to taint him…

Dean gulps, his voice in hoarse whisper.

“You know Cas, if it’s a matter of kissing as gratitude… I would have stormed you with many.” He leans close enough for their noses to touch. He hears Cas catch his breath and for the first time the angel’s eyes are wide. Dean smiles. “If I count all the blessing that’s you, Cas… kissing you for eternity would not even be enough, you get my dig?”

Castiel doesn’t respond but the way his lips parted open to breath almost has Dean catching them. But now. He just stares longingly at the chapped lips he knows the shape so much, before pulling back and smirking. “You better take a shower. I made it hot enough with just me.”

Cas gulps hard and that’s all Dean needed before grinning.

“Take a shower.” He walks out of the room butt naked, leaving the angel unmoving at the edge of the pool.

The fireside has been lit when Dean comes out and he assumes Bacchus dropping by has something to do with it. Dean is already drying his hair wearing a short white tunic that covers most of his upper thigh but neglects to add extra blanket for his knees when Castiel reappears. Both turns to each other once aware of each other’s presence and Dean sees Cas wearing the same tunic as he is that covers their thighs and with a thin band around the waist. Their upper body’s cover is one shouldered but enough to keep most of the skin under. Dean has managed to tie his but Castiel came out with his untangled upper garment, chest out and with black hair sticking to his face, wet and dripping. It was Cas’ expression that had Dean laugh out for the angel looks very grumpy with lips into a pout, eyes searching high and low, his body hunched into an attack.

“Why aren’t you—what are you doing?” Dean strides next to him, pulling the fabric he used to dry himself up the angel’s hair and drying him. Cas looks up at him with a squint.

“I couldn’t remember where I placed my towel. One moment it’s on my shoulder and the next it’s gone. I tried looking for it till I’m out here—and umm… I don’t think—”

Dean is grinning. “Yeah, hold this, you cutie.”

Cas raises both hands to hold on the hair towel while Dean reaches to the edges of his one-shoulder tunic. The hunter tugs it up to the angel’s left shoulder and began tying them. Cas smells heavily like flower, his skin milky white and if Dean does not have any self-control, he would have touched the angel in places the hunter knows can really use some stretching. He shakes his head and drops his hands to his side like he’s been electrified again.

_Fuck._ He’s losing it. _Why can’t Cas see through him…?_

Cas looks at him questioningly and fuck, doesn’t he look so beautiful under the torch light, in his white tunic. His deep blue eyes almost making Dean want to cry just to praise them. He’s never felt this urgency so badly. Cas is staring at him looking a bit confused too.

“Dean?”

But Dean raises his palms and cups Castiel’s cheeks. Cas’ eyes rounds.

“Cas, I—”

There is a knock on the door.

Dean quickly withdraws and moves away, Castiel following his every move looking stunned. _Fuck._

Dean rubs the back of his neck and heads for the door. He opens it to find Prometheus there looking expectant. Dean cannot help the grimace that fell on his face as he found the Titan. Prometheus’ light up when Castiel appears on Dean’s shoulder.

“Castiel. I would like to invite you for an evening recollection. It has been awhile and I really would like to know more about this future you speak of and how you… well, about _you _in fact. So if you can spare me some of your time…”

Dean wants to shut the door and keep Castiel in. He wants to possess the angel and not let anyone have him. Unconsciously, his body begins to block Cas from view, instincts prevailing to keep Castiel away from this Titan. He wants to tell Cas now that he couldn’t take it anymore. _Cas can’t go…_

“Of course.”

Cas stirs beside him. Dean reaches out and grabs his upper arm in one firm grip. The two eyed each other. Castiel looks Dean in the eyes.

“Dean.” It isn’t a question nor does it sound like an order. It’s just is. The hunter lets his hand slip. He gulps, turns to Prometheus who is also watching him, before the man shakes his head.

“Yeah, uh… you know what? Take your time.”

Dean doesn’t know why the opposite comes out of his lips. He wants to yank Cas inside, shut the door in the Titan’s face and keep Castiel under him on the bed. Cas looks very beautiful in his new tunic with shoulders bare and Prometheus seems to share the same. Dean wants to pull his eyes out. Wants to get angry but he really can’t.

“It will only be for a moment.” There is somewhat urgency in the angel’s tone. Dean doesn’t answer as he turns. But when the door closes and he hear Prometheus saying, “I have missed you.” Dean curses.

He can already imagine his hungry look of wanting to kiss Cas. Of course, the Titan is unstoppable and Castiel has never tried before. The two have no rule, they could fuck whenever they want. Whatever bond it is they share, it’s definitely on levels Dean and Cas has never reached.

Dean looks at t the door and shakes his head in resignation. He suddenly doesn’t feel like that tired anymore.

Why can’t they?

_All those bunch of ‘because’._

And fucking broken promises when Cas said he won’t leave… Dean curses and throws himself on the soft bed where his body sunk in the middle.

_Great, now he sounds like a whiny boyfriend._ Frustrated, Dean closes his eyes. Castiel is his, but he can never claim him… why is that…? What will Cas and Prometheus be doing tonight? He so wants to follow them and get Cas back in the room.

_Because._

Someone is knocking on the door again. Dean’s eyes open and he sits up. He watches the door slightly open and the dark hair of Bacchus appears there holding a jar of what appears to be a wine. Dean instantly grins cause yeah, he can use company tonight.

* * *

Dean has watched Cas go many times, in many different ways and many deaths. Like lines of fate entwined, his heart has also gone innumerable heart breaks. Cas betrayed him. Cas left him. Cas went away without saying good bye. Cas died. Each time he brings a piece of Dean with him and every time he returns, Dean’s hope rekindles a hundred times more. And now every time he goes, Dean summersaults back into the ground a thousand times more.

But even along those, this is the only time Dean feels Castiel truly leaving him. The fact that Cas knows Dean is in love with him—_fuck subtlety—Castiel knows it!_ But the angel keeping distance on choice is something Dean can never understand. But it is a fact—_Castiel is avoiding the topic._

Bacchus enters and Dean whistles to see him wearing a modest white tunic hanging off his one shoulder, the tone of his muscles almost too proportioned it was to envy for. The hunter smiles at the demigod’s chuckle when he raises the wine.

“Didn’t know you could crack a smile, gloom-doom. See? You can even beat sunshine.”

“Not everyone deserves the same treatment.”

“Oh? So you’re saying I’m good enough?”

“I’m saying I’m here to pay respect to someone who’s immeasurable pain needs venting.” He clinks the jar as he walks in and Dean raises his eyes expectantly and gives a long, suffering sigh.

“Exactly what I need.” Dean slides his feet on the floor.

“I passed by Prometheus and Castiel and bid them a good evening.” The demigod is saying, walking towards Dean and gesturing towards the carpet by the fireside. Dean follows, wanting nothing but to stop worrying about Cas and his new boyfriend. “Castiel doesn’t look too happy to see me.”

“Yeah, well that’s generally part of the package. But he doesn’t bite. Just don’t piss him off. He’s a nerdy angel.” Dean barely conceals the erupting wariness in his tone as he remembers his friend and shakes his head.

Bacchus gives him a confused look as the hunter drops himself on the floor with his back leaning on the reclining chair smiling. Bacchus took the seat next to him, their shoulders bumping.

“Which is something I do not understand.” Bacchus goes on, planting the jar and cups made of ceramics on the floor with their legs brushing with moving arms. “Castiel is an angel and you are a human. What is an angel doing entangling himself with a mortal? I mean no offense, you do seem like an exceptional human, Dean, but angels have reputations even among my kind. They are not to be meddled with. They rarely walk the earth but when they do, chaos ensues for their word is absolute. They mold humans to follow their command and brings wrath to those who disobey. Castiel from the stories I have heard is one of the best warriors of heaven ranked among so many. To find him losing temper about a human is very intriguing.”

“What you gotta understand is, Cas isn’t like any of his dick brothers, alright? He’s more of a softie… like very cute…fluffy Cas. He pulled me out of my hell and change me for the better. He’s changed a lot of things in my life since he came. He is very protective of me and my brother, that’s for sure. He will never leave me.” Dean takes the cup handed to him and takes a swig. The alcohol is rich in color and pretty bitter, more bitter than what they had at the public banquet. Dean puts it down and pours wine for the demigod.

“You adore the angel.”

Dean makes no contradiction to that. He knows he does. He doesn’t know what prompts him to take the bait to talk about Cas to someone he barely knew, but the positive statement of something true, something real to him as his feelings gives Dean the boost. Dean doesn’t find talking of personal things easy, but talking about Cas is as easy as breathing, one he can get on with forever.

“Me and Cas go a long way. He saved me many times. See that?” he shoves Cas’ mark on his shoulder under Bacchus’ wide eyes.

“He has marked you—what more—he has claimed your soul.”

“Yeah, I get it, just like with Prometheus?”

“I do not believe he has marked Prometheus in such a manner. It is no wonder Castiel feels too possessive of you. He owns you, Dean.”

Dean’s ears redden at the statement. To hear that Prometheus does not have the same claim in any part of his body brought satisfaction in the hunter he could not explain. Turning to the demigod, he couldn’t help the smile that twitched at the corner of his lips. Bacchus is even surprised when he gives him a flash of smile. Dean pauses. Him and Cas had always shared something more profound and it may have begun with that ass of a pull from perdition... but it's more than just that. Cas is more than an angel to Dean. No one can understand that. The hunter takes his time.

“Cas and I are family. We save each other on daily basis. I just wasn’t made aware that he makes a habit of saving people from their personal hell.” Dean takes another swig, emptying the cup with gritted teeth.

“You are jealous.”

“Pot calling kettle black.”

“I do not know why you make references of kitchen wares, Dean, but you speak of Castiel highly. I do not understand why you have not made your claim when the angel is clear as day light that he is yours.”

“I don’t need to prove anything to anyone because Cas is mine, alright? Your Prometheus can shove his little crush up his ass, he can never take Cas from me. He got saved from a mountain? _Cas saved me from hell!_ And everyone knows how many times I’ve visited that place and come back to life still kicking.”

Bacchus stares at Dean. Intently so. “You came back from the Underworld…?”

Dean shrugs.

“How many times?” he sounds too eager.

“Uhhh… more than enough you can almost say I’m immortal.” The hunter chuckles.

Bacchus nods and blinks. “You said Castiel belongs to you, an angel of another lord. You said he will never leave you and yet, to that I say, right now he just did. You let it happen. Castiel has left you.”

“He won’t.”

“What level of intimacy have you shared with him?”

“What?”

“Have you joined bodies and soul?”

“You on to something? What do you think?” Dean cocks an eyebrow. Bacchus chuckles.

"Of course. A healthy man such as yourself."

"You don't need to know what's happening under our loins, you get the point. Now back off and don't think you're getting anywhere near mine, y'hear?"

“Interesting." Bacchus gives Dean a smirk. "That is a rejection I presume?"

Dean rolls his eyes. Talk about a dude hitting another dude. But it's not a first time. Dean's used to people coming at him left to right. He'd let them entertain him if he's in the mood, even let them touch here and there, but one move and his jackass knife's on their throat. It doesn't surprise him even ancient times have those, after all, his body is really to die for.

"Damn straight it is. This helluva body's only for an angel."

"What a shame. I was kind of thinking how you feel now that you and the angel's separated ways."

Dean glares and he would have grabbed the demigod’s collar—except he hasn’t got any. What the hell’s that supposed to mean? Cas will not leave him—! But it left a bad taste in Dean’s mouth anyway, just the mere thought of Castiel leaving his life for good. 

“Yeah, I know your master has the hots for my angel, alright? But it’ll take him a hundred times try before he can even make Cas choose him over me, you hear? He can try swaying Cas but Cas will always choose me!” He doesn’t remember rising a little on his legs, nor he remember leaning on the demigod threateningly but he is there nonetheless with a finger pointing in the air. The heat of the wine from his throat is already rising on his face. “Cas will choose me over anyone anytime of any day… _always me.”_

Bacchus doesn’t look intimidated at all as he adjusted on his position with a narrowed look at Dean. There's a burning touch on Dean's side, Bacchus' hand just under the outline of his ribs, like he's making sure Dean wouldn't fall on him. At the same time, Dean's sure the damn cocky dude's pulling him too.

"You don't seem to be concerned of the fact I'm interested with you?"

"Interest all you like, I'm only for Cas."

“Ah... such loyalty. I have seen that with my own eyes. But is this overconfidence talking?”

“Uh, yeah.” Dean slumps back on the floor, shoulder pressing close to Bacchus who adjust his shoulder to accommodate him and the hunter is beyond being bothered leaning close to a man. “So I’m not worried… Cas will never leave me for anyone.”

“And that is your excuse for being miserable?”

“I’m not miserable.”

“Yes, you are, Dean. Or you would not be drinking half of the wine before me. And I am the son of the god of wine Dionysius with tolerance exceeding yours. You are miserable right now because Castiel is not beside you.”

Dean huffs. So this is Mr. Point obvious stuff, huh? “Right, I didn’t know you are ancient times’ Dr. Phil.”

“Again, you speak of something I do not understand. One thing I understand however is if you do not start opening more about what you really want, then you may lose him in the long run. No one is that resilient.”

“Cas is.”

“So you are not only making yourself miserable, but the angel too. And you think he deserves that?”

Dean has to stop to take that in. Lots of times them other tell him he doesn't deserves Cas. Time and again Cas doing much more than saying that he doesn't give fuck, that he doesn't care about deserving who because he just wants to stay with Dean. And Dean let him, because in the first place, it's him who can't think of living in a world without Castiel.

The very thought is suffocating him. So maybe it's okay Cas is with someone else... as long as he'd go back to Dean. Dean blinks, eyes searing. He knows it's too good to last forever.

“I know he deserves better than me… but he’s... I think he's... he's also better off with someone who's the same with him okay? All that immortal stuff? I don't know... sometimes I think I don't want to hold him back, but I'm afraid to let go... and I don't... Cas doesn't deserve that kind of selfishness... not from me who's taken everything from him. Even if I want to lay my heart under his feet, Cas is an angel who deserves better than a fucking mess that's me!” Saying it out loud is like plunging the dagger deeper to the hilt.

“So this is about you... deserving the angel?"

“What do you know? I don’t blame his brothers for saying I fucked his life. No one’s ever wanted me the way Cas did, anyway and I love him for that... He deserves better. Much much better than me so who am I to force myself to him? If he doesn't want me, I'll back away... only if he's the one sayin it. A lot of fucking care I'll give if it's not his choice.” Dean glares. He sees Bacchus just stare at him for a moment. The fire crackled and the room gets a little bit more warm.

“Where's your confidence of keeping the angel? I thought you said you love him?"

Dean snorts. "You think this is just about falling the fucking in love and grabbing everything and running? Well, I tell you this pal, I'm no god. I'm not like you gods and godshits who think they can claim anyone they want in a flick of finger. I care about Cas, I do... and if I ever think for one second being away from me is better for him, I'd fucking bury myself on the ground so I don't come begging for him to take me. I'd do that. I'd fucking do it. Because even if he does have a tiny shred of feeling for you ass master, I believe Cas.” Dean gulps. He can't... he won't take it on Cas if he really have some feelings for Prometheus. Cas is an angel with a big heart. Dean can't keep all of that for himself even if deep inside he just wants Cas for his own. He can't be selfish like that. Cas is never selfish about Dean anyway. To Dean... being with Cas is what matters. At least, that's what he makes himself believe.

“He’s always doing things for my sake… him avoiding this topic… avoiding talking about maybe liking Prometheus… I think… I think what he’s doing is for the best.”

“One what ground?” Bacchus sounds a little closer. Dean glares.

“On the ground that we stay together like this—or lose each other if we say it.”

“Oh? So you think the consequences of loving each other is separation?”

“What’s not clear to you, asshole? Want me to spell everything out?” Dean drops his knees on the ground, landing between Bacchus' legs. The hunter thinks he saw the demi god's eyes glint for a moment, but he dismissed it. He doesn't want to think of anyone but Cas now."

"Castiel loves you."

"That's what I've been tryin to tell you. Get that straight to your master's head."

"But now you're thinking if you want him too? To set him free if he's inclined to love someone else?"

Dean's lips shut close. Dammit, does this guy want to die? "You... you already said you know Cas loves me, why are you making things complicated-?"

“No. I only want to be clear of the reason why Castiel is considering smiting me more than once since meeting me today. It’s because he loves you and you love him but both of you are drowning in your own inconsequential reasoning that nothing really happens. I understand now. You are a fool, Dean.”

“What?” Dean snaps his head around as he shakes the empty jar. He throws it away and snatches Bacchus’ untouched cup. “Who you callin’ a fool?”

“You. And the angel too." the demigod looks contemplative, but Dean notices how his eyes are going exploring Dean's figure. Demigods are easily readable too. Dean grunts. "Again, it's a shame you are currently separated. I don't think he would blame me if I take a dip on the hot surface of what he's missing right now. He left you alone after all. Left you vulnerable."

A pang of pain at those words. Castiel leaving Dean alone. But those twisted words has the hunter only narrowing his eyes at the son of the god of beer or whatever. "Oh, you're dirty talking me now?"

Bacchus suddenly is so close in Dean's space, his expression full of dark intent that Dean can only stare and watch.

"I can risk one smiting from the angel if you let me-" he slips both palms around the hunter's lower back and pulls him close. Dean nearly falls on his shoulders, but the sudden tug has the hunter's brain send tidal of warning. He becomes aware of the light squeeze on his ass and gets immediate reaction around his groin. Uh oh. Not like he has a masterful control of that part now, eh? When someone badly wants you and you know you're too weak to even protest, know that you're playing in their hands, knowing... just knowing how bad they want you...

Dean blinks. Damn wine...

“Yeah, shut up.” Dean staggers, trying to right on his knees in front of the demigod, “So you think you can have fun with me cause Cas isn't looking? You come here in my room with a wine and all you can do is talk. What’s that? Too chicken to make a move cause you think my guardian angel’s gonna smite your ass?” Dean wants to interject how he's going to refuse, how he's going to make Bacchus salivate after he turns his back, just to make a point. But everything coming out of his mouth is purely the opposite. He makes a groan when something slipped just on the slit of his cheeks- fucking fingers on his meat. Dean slowly tries to take reigns but grabbing on the demigod's shoulder and pushing him away. It did the opposite as the demi god pulled him in, them both crashing on the floor when they lost balance. 

Dean pins the smiling Bacchus on the floor, straddling him effectively, almost sitting on his abdomen. The hunter doesn't feel threatened. Not at all. This is different. He feels in control. It's a position he always takes on and Bacchus looks so fucking willing. But he's only gonna tease this far. It's not like he's really interested with hot wine gods... Cas is... Cas is with Prometheus right now so...

"Cas is gonna kill you for seducing me..." he breathes, eyes falling on Bacchus' lips. Something about this is wrong.

“Oh, I think that is a risk anyone will be willing to take. You are beautiful, Dean.” Fingers work around the hunter's cheeks who flushes.

“You’re not the first god to say so.” Dean feels his body heat up when the demigod’s hands began rubbing his sides, down to his hips. Damn, he is going to get laid tonight. “Y’know what I think, Bach? Cause I uh… I’ll just call you Bach… am I going to be in any trouble with Prometheus doin stuff here… with you?”

“It’s Saturnalia. It will not come as a surprise if Castiel and Prometheus are already a step ahead of us. The question is if Castiel—”

The thought of Cas wrapped in the strong arms of Prometheus has Dean grinding his teeth and snarling as he crashed his mouth against the hot surface of Bacchus’ waiting lips. It was hot and deep as Bacchus never shies away from willingly taking him and when Dean tries to pull, the demigod slips his hands behind Dean’s neck.

A loud thud and painful breathing later, Dean finds himself on his back with Bacchus on top. The hunter holds his breath with eyes widening. _What the hell is he doing? Yup getting laid at speed of light—_

“I was wrong.” Bacchus says with glint of lust in his eyes Dean has never seen before, his yellow eyes making Dean’s breath hitch and for a second he was frozen on the spot. “You are _very beautiful_, Dean.” His face comes down and the hunter anticipated his lips quite with excitement and he feels both damn guilty and sad. Sad because he's letting someone fuck him, and mostly because he doesn't want it, but his body's telling him differently and that's just fucked up. Just so fucked up. He lets out a tiny sob and shuts his eyes close, almost apologizing when—

_“DEAN!"_

_Oh fuck—_

Dean snaps his head towards where the voice came from and sees Castiel in all angel warrior attack crossing the room. Dean is mesmerized because Castiel charging is the hottest thing and it takes him a moment to realize what will happen next. Before Bacchus can move, the angel has him by the neck and pinned on the column near the fire side. Castiel is angry, the way his thin lips made a line with jaw squaring tight creates an impression of someone unwilling to forgive and it takes Dean to call him many times before he relents—

“Cas—let him go! He didn’t do anything I didn’t want so chill, man!” he is up on his feet, hovering behind the angel, trying to catch his breath at the sudden appearance of the angel. Castiel doesn't look at him.

"You were crying, dammit!" Castiel snarls in a voice so deep it startled Dean. But he put a hand on the angel's shoulder. 

"N-no... I uh... it's my bad... so drunk. Please, Cas..." Dean feels the angel's whole body shuddered, like it's taking all his energy to just drop Bacchus down. Like he's not going to after all, but after a moment of intense staring, Cas slowly lowers Bacchus, his glare not leaving the demigod who easily shrugs the pain away with a pointed look at the angel and then to Dean.

“I think I should go, Dean.” He tells the hunter. To Castiel he gives a deep bow and is gone from their room after a few strides, leaving the hunter and the angel with only the sound of the crackling fire from the fireside. Dean heaves a sigh and runs his fingers on his hair, pulling down his palm on his face.

“I'm sorry." he mumbles, wiping his eyes, "but you shouldn't have... he didn't do anything without-"

Castiel slowly turns to him not even looking remotely apologetic. “He attacked you. That's clear.” He grumbles, but doesn't continue. Dean lowers his eyes because he knows what Cas is thinking. That Dean's made a mess again, that Dean's breaking them because that's what a Winchester do. It made his eyes burn. 

“Yeah, you think horny guys don’t do that under the influence of liquor.” he says trying to sound angry, but his voice just breaks.

“He wasn’t drunk. _He’s a Bacchus.”_

“That’s not my point—you can’t just barge in the room when you know I’ve got guests—didn’t I tell you that before? I need space, Cas! I can’t have you always smiting your way with anyone I’m bedding, okay?”

“You wanted to bed him?”

Silence fell in the room. Dean blinks. That doesn't sound right at all. But Castiel is squinting at him with those ridiculous blue eyes.

“You like him.” the angel concluded.

Dean rolls his eyes. So what? Cas is the only one allowed to have crushes and kissing spree around here? “None of your business.” The moment it left his mouth, Dean realizes something is seriously wrong with him. He is pushing Cas. He is pushing Cas away. He knows that. He's done that to the angel before and now he's doing it again. What kind of fucked up boyfriend is he?

Not boyfriend anymore. Just fucked up.

“Dean…”

The hunter looks back at the soft tone. He finds Cas still watching him with a stricken look. The hunter freezes. A look of sorrow he has never seen in Castiel’s face has now become transparent. Cas, the angel of the lord, smite of demons and evil alike, but always giving Dean a glimpse of his vulnerability. Like Castiel knows... Castiel feels. Dean is pulling away. Dean gulps. Is he... is he gonna let Cas go?

Castiel looks down and shakes his head, his lips pressed.

“I’m sorry for getting in your way, Dean… I had this feeling in my guts that you were calling for me… I didn’t… I thought you were in danger and I… I’m sorry.”

Dean only half listens because right there and then, the urge to wrap his arms around the insecure angel gnaws inside him. Cas wavers where he stood when he didn’t respond because flashes of Castile kissing Prometheus clouded Dean’s thoughts and bitterness seeps through his skin.

“Never mind, just leave. I’m sure your new ‘kiss buddy’ is waiting for you—”

“He isn’t.”

“Ah, so done for the day, are you? Why’d you come back? You could have stayed in his room instead of babysitting me here, you don’t want me anyway.” He turns around, chest heaving in cold anger. This isn’t Cas’ fault—that Dean is so in love with him, he can barely control himself.

“I want you, Dean.” Dean’s eyes widen and he whips around to look the angel in the eyes. There's a long moment where all that matter was him and the angel. Like the whole universe is for them to share. With a growl, Dean jumps at Cas' arms, wrap him in his arms and begins kissing him in earnest, biting and grazing his teeth as he pushes the angel back further and further till they hit the wall.

"Dean-" Castiel tries, pulling his face a little a way so Dean sinks his teeth on his white skin. "Dean wait-"

"I want you." Dean breathes wetly on the angel's ears.

"Dean, you're- you're drunk, wait." Castiel pushes him easily and the two eyed each other, both staring deeply in each other's eyes.

"I want you, Cas." Dean almost pleads and he wants to wash away everything- all that's happened that day from Prometheus' attempt to get Castiel, to Castiel giving him a curious look, to Bacchus caressing his body that left fire on it's trail and the fact that Dean let him. He's dirty, Dean thinks everything about him is dirty and he needs Castiel to clean him now. "Want you." he captures the angel's lips on his own.

"Dean..." Castiel blocks his attempt with a push on his chest. "Dean, you're... I don't think you're ready..."

"I am! I am!" Dean insists, forehead dropping on Castiel's shoulder. "I want you to fuck me good, Cas... just take me." He needs Cas under him, above him, inside him. Something delicate is breaking between them and Dean doesn't want it. He doesn't want it to end. He wants to hold on. He pushes his hips to Cas' front and grinds their bulges, making him groan. He wants Cas-

_“Dean.”_

A plead. It was a plead and so full of anguish. Like no words could explain the wreck the name is causing the strained voice. And the voice is telling Dean to stop thinking he isn’t love—that this isn’t like that. Then what? What's making Cas hesitate when he's supposed to be wrapped around the hunter.

_He doesn't want your shit._

Dean pulls his unblinking eyes from the floor because he never remembers being so broken and dead at the same time. But Castiel’s voice call back to him and he notices the angel stepping closer. Dean looks up and finds the pain in Castiel’s eyes is so heart wrenching that Dean doesn’t look away. That is when he realized he can never hate Cas. Whatever the angel is going through, whatever answer he gave Dean now, Dean understands Castiel does have a reason. This isn’t about him. This is Cas trying to fight a battle he doesn’t want to involve Dean at and the hunter can only believe that. Other wise he will crumble may not recover the heart he is willingly giving to Castiel.

Castiel is crushing it right under his feet. The angel with that dead pan expression with only his eyes showing everything the hunter needs to understand.

So, Dean steps into Cas space and place a safe pat on his shoulder. Then he pulls him into a hug.

_Don’t cross borders, Winchester. Castiel doesn’t want you when your'e a mess._

“S’all right, Cas. No harm done. So stop looking like you just died.”

Because Cas does. And Dean doesn’t believe for one second the angel is not in love with him. As far as he was concerned, the angel has loved him the longest and Dean isn’t even on par with what the angel can sacrifice for him. Whatever is happening, Dean will find out. But for now, he embraces Castiel tight.

“It’s okay, Cas… I’m okay.”

"I love you, Dean." Cas voice is full of anguish. "Don't make me... don't make me make this feel like it's meant to hurt you. I love you so much I don't want to risk doing that..."

"Cas..."

"If I do make love to you now, I feel like I'll lose you forever."

Dean shuts his eyes close. He really is an idiot and Castiel... Castiel is always the better one. He strokes the angel's head, rubbing his back soothingly and feels Castiel’s chest heave against his body. After a while, the angel fell silent. Having Castiel wrap in his arms is basically the only drug he needs to get high. He basks himself in the angel’s warmth and buries his nose on the crook of Castiel’s neck. How Cas feels like home Dean can understand now. _Castiel is his home._ He feels Cas’ hands move behind him to embrace him back. He feels the angel’s moving lump in his throat and feel him sigh. This is them comforting each other through the pain. Dean closes his eyes tight as he reminds himself one last time, he can never have Cas.

_“I love you, Cas.”_

Castiel does not respond but the grip of the angel on his already marked shoulder is an answer enough. Dean pulls a little away, letting their eyes see one another for the first time that moment. Dean smiles weakly and there must be something in his eyes, because the angel stares at him for a long moment, before Castiel finally goes in for a kiss. 

* * *

Half an hour later finds the two cleaning up the mess on the carpet which Dean comments on being too half-assed anyway because Bacchus is acting a Doctor Phil with eyes on the prize like how Jack the Ripper sees organs inside you and not in a sexy sort.

“I think he likes you.” Castiel says grumpily, putting the cups on the table. Dean snickers, but he gives the angel a quick look just to see how adorable he is when jealous.

“What is not there to like?” Dean quirks his eyebrows at the angel. “You know I’m hot for my own good.”

Castiel nods, frown not disappearing on his face. "I should've give him a piece of my kind." 

"Well, he got a piece alright." Dean turns, exactly to see Cas step in front of him their bodies almost collide. The hunter takes a step back, but Cas insists on keeping him on an inch length, eyes critical at the hunter.

“He really did not hurt you? He did not trick you with his wine? Bacchus is a half god with influence on alcohol as his maker… I don’t want him manipulating you in doing anything.”

Dean avoids telling him about the fingers on his ass. Dammit, how could he let that get so far?

"He only talks..." he mumbles. Unfortunately, Castiel doesn't buy it.

“Talk about?”

“This and that. Stop asking, it was a nice talk though. What about you and your new boyfriend? Kissing under a tree again?” despite the push for humor, Dean feels his stomach constrict.

“We weren’t doing such thing.” Cas glowers, “I gave him a full description of what happened to our time and how my father destroyed his creation. He can sympathize having been… punished by his own father after he stole the fire from Olympus.”

Dean straightens and nods. “I guess the unending cycle of poor show fathers.” He tries to laugh but is lost in the lump in his throat.

“Are you okay, Dean? Do you need me to sober you up?”

Dean considers, then nods. But he is the one who reaches a hand on Cas’ right palm and place it gently on his cheek. “Yeah, Cas. I need you. More than you know.”

Cas’ eyes sparks in concern as he lets his grace clear the hunter’s mind, “Dean, what’s wrong?”

“I don’t know man… feels like you’re being pulled from me.”

“I’m here.”

“I know.”

Castiel looks so concerned he refuse to let go of Dean even when the man begins to pull away. There is something about the way Cas suddenly holds his arms like he is afraid Dean will disappear from his touch. Castiel can sense it, can sense the turbulence in Dean’s heart awoken by Bacchus’ words…

_Castiel has left you._

“Dean.”

Dean bites his lips, eyes falling once again on the angel’s chapped pair. A lump in his throat has been trying to push up and be known but he’s just too stupid to admit that. But yeah, Cas is there.

“Cas.”

“Yes, Dean?”

“Don’t leave me, okay?” Dean means it as he cupped the angel’s cheeks in his hand. Like holding the world. “I know I’m an ass sometimes and it takes something to people to be able to keep up with me…and I know I don’t always say the right things. I know I was hard on you and we have plenty of disagreements but… but you were always there… you stayed, all those fucking years of my crappiness and you did… so don’t leave me, okay?”

“I’m not going to leave you, Dean.”

Dean nods at the sincerity of the blue eyes and wipes his right thumb at the corner of Cas’ eyes. When the world is ending, when they are at the last footing why does it always take him these things before realizing how important little moments like this is? He wants to tell Cas he loves him. He loves him a lot. Castiel does too, he knows that.

_“I’ll never leave you, Dean.”_

Dean hears that even in his sleep, sees him even in the privacy of his dreams. Cas is there. And when Dean wakes up in the middle of the night, it is to his satisfaction to find Cas’ shadow at the edge of his bed, sitting quietly, guarding him from anything in the middle of the night like he always does. And Dean doesn’t freak out or mind the space. They have forgotten that between them. He falls asleep easily, calling Cas’ name.

* * *

Later the next morning after Dean basks his nose with Castiel's presence beside him, Prometheus pays the room a visit, making it specifically clear he is there for Castiel. Dean stands the moment an invitation on the courtyard is made. He gives Prometheus a pointed look that clearly says ‘where-he-goes-I-go’. Cas doesn’t mind, but the glowering look Prometheus gives Dean is enough reason for the hunter to stick around.

Cas does not neglect Dean but often times Dean find’s Prometheus’ ridiculously long limbs around Cas. Touching his shoulder, holding his arms, rubbing his hands, it screams of Prometheus almost wooing Cas. And still Cas let him. Almost at the edge of pulling Castiel to him, Dean stares at a statue a top a Corinthian base of what looks proper like Prometheus and Dean questions his decision when he thumps his palms in its middle. The statue slides down and crashes on the floor. Dean freezes on the spot and then Castiel is behind him, holding his shoulder, looking him over and asking him if he is hurt. Dean only mumbles and looks at Prometheus with a dry apology. He sees the Titan’s eyes narrow and tells him accidents happen. Not in Dean’s dictionary. Cas never left Dean after that but Dean continues to be in foul mood. Talk about bitch and how Cas found his new boyfriend. He finally leaves the two when Bacchus comes around, holding out the clothes he is to wear.

The cold glare Castiel gives Bacchus is enough for Dean to know the two needs more time mellowing with each other. The angel seems to consider going with him but Prometheus requests his company regarding the celebration later. Dean has no counter to that and reluctantly follows Bacchus back in his room.

Dean is left to take another shower and use the spare clothes prepared by Bacchus for him. He gets out of the room and onto the fountain, basking in the last light of the sinking sun and wondering when they’ll be able to return when footsteps behind him alerted him. The hunter looks around and finds the demigod smiling at him with intense gaze and Dean sheepishly returns it. _Aw shit, he messed up._

“Don’t get any ideas, we’re not doing anything without excuse.”

“Shame.” Bacchus nods and hands him a golden piece of tunic.

“The hell’s this?”

“Your dress for tonight’s feast. Though, we don’t really need anything to make you stand out in the crowd, your good looks is enough to make Athena beg, but I see it fit that you be dressed as equals as the

“So we’re like the only servants in the room?”

“Oh, no, we don’t get to serve them. We will be standing on equal footing with food already prepared around. No, we will enjoy ourselves. But I must warn you, even with level headed officials, they are still humans. And humans act on desires. You better prepare yourself.”

“You’re talking to me like I’m some meat.”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” 

Dean wears the golden tunic later that evening when the entire villa is bright with torch lights. Carriage after carriage has started arriving half an hour ago and yet Dean stays inside his room with some reservation. The tunic is of much finer quality, and it really does make justice of his shape. But it’s still above his knees and Dean couldn’t help feeling discomfort. He looks in the opposite mirror and nods as its shape complemented his contours with extra layer around the neck. There is a knock on the door, and then Castiel is there before him.

“Dean, are you ready?”

“It’s not like anyone’ s waiting on us, Cas.” Dean whirls around to face Castiel. And did Dean nearly lose his head because _holy shit—Cas looks marvelous in his gettup. _Castiel with all the power his vessel contains is wearing a short sleeve tunic stretched to his knees with a dark blue fabric—as blue as the angel’s eyes—draped with silver brooch hanging on his right side. The silver linings on the hem of the tunic makes it endearing but Castiel’s dark hair is as messy and gorgeous as ever. Dean can’t help licking his lips.

_Oh, holy mother of fuck, Cas is—_

“Beautiful.”

Dean snaps his head around and sees Prometheus staring at Castiel in the same manner and knows exactly what Prometheus will be aiming for the entire night. Dean’s eyes burned.


	12. Bread and Circuses

_ **Panem et Circenses** _

* * *

Castiel could be a fucking god.

_No._ An angel.

_No. He’s mine._

For a brief second, Dean thinks Castiel only comes to check on him and will be accompanied by Prometheus all through the festivities. He bows his head, not even wanting to see the way the Titan is almost devouring his angel. The titan doesn’t leave his shoulders as they entered the room. The hunter burns his eyes on the ground, teeth clenched. He doesn’t know what he’ll do if Prometheus starts hitting on Cas again, tradition or not…

Then he sees a pair of feet in front of him. Dean looks up and finds the angel stand in front of him despite the initial thought that Castiel might leave him the way Dean’s always left him. He didn’t. Cas just waltz in straight to his space, eyes already squinting while Dean watches him in fascination.

“Dean? Ready?” Castiel asks, peering closely to the hunter. “What’s wrong?”

“Thought you’re going with him…” Dean mumbles sheepishly, not looking Cas’ way.

The angel’s eyebrows contracted as he follows Dean’s indication to where Prometheus is standing quietly. “Why? I came here in this world with you, Dean. And I plan to drag myself to you no matter. How did that one demon put it? _We’re joined at everything.”_

“I think that’s one thing they got right.” Dean grins, taking Castiel’s waist and pressing his warm lips on the angel’s. Bacchus clears his throat. Castiel glares at him but Dean is just too happy to push Castiel bodily out of Prometheus’ reach to care.

The Titan eyes them, then walks ahead of them out of the room. Bacchus on the rear. The villa is big enough to take about five minutes into the hallway and Dean has to stop to admire the decorations of the first ancient civilization’s _Christmas._

Abundant presence of candles, torchlight and fire meets Dean’s eyes when he emerged from his room into the large atrium hall of Prometheus’ villa. Elaborate parties were no stranger to the hunter, but when it is Saturnalia, the immense ability of people to prepare for it is outstanding. Whereas Dean does not remember that many people in the house except the four of them last night, there now are dozens of people donning different colored tunics, togas and caps walking in the middle of the round room where food is bountiful. Whoever prepared and how quickly they were prepared, Dean can only guess as he and Cas walk down the stone stairs, admiring the decked halls with boughs of greenery, ornaments on bushes and a tree standing at the side when Dean blinks at the tree. The hunter nudges Cas beside him.

“I’ll bet you everything I have now that’s a Christmas tree? Now it does feel like Christmas.”

Cas looks at where the hunter is pointing and nods.

“Evergreen trees are imperative fertility symbol during Winter Solstice. Many people believed evergreen shrubs like holly, ivy and mistletoes help the sun move to the surface, beckoning it encouragement and guidance through the season. Adding it ornaments is a personal custom that has been carried over to your time.”

“Wait— _and mistletoes_? Don’t tell me people fuck under _that?_ Because then my century is _waaaay_ too timid.” Dean looks up hopefully above them where a mistletoe innocently hangs. He looks at the angel who doesn’t look excited at all. Instead, he lifts an eyebrow at Dean who grimaces. “Fine. Instead of kissing, why don’t you kick me in face, prof.”

“Mistletoe is part of an important oak tree revered by many ancient people, Dean. And because the mistletoe grows in the oak tree’s middle part, they used to believe the mistletoe is the tree’s genitals.”

Dean coughs. _“What?”_

“Mistletoes are actually the most sacred plants of the Druids and so many believed that embracing or in your own words, ‘kissing’ under it ensures a fruitful union.”

“Well, that’s a knowledge I’ll never forget.” Dean shakes his head as they move ahead the crowd of people. “What about those redcaps them people are wearing? I’ll kiss you if you tell me that’s where Santa Claus…”

Cas shuts up momentarily but he nods his head vigorously. Dean scowls at him.

The atrium is easily as big as the bunker with plenty more space for a ceiling. He looks around and sees the Corinthian pillars hold the tall ceiling of the large villa. The walls are draped in red satin with embroidered symbols of sun and tiles as decorative as the colorful ceiling. Torches lit all corners. There is a fountain in the middle of the room surrounded by a pool with the moon shining below it. Men and women gather around it, chatting pleasantly. They see plenty of people in the atrium, all still modestly wearing their togas and pallium cascading on the floor.

Greetings came Prometheus’ way and he is occupied by sheer number of visitors in a go. Castiel takes Dean’s hand and the two soon find themselves brushing shoulder with the many visitors exchanging _Io, Saturnalia _that came out of nowhere. Cas and Dean scans the crowd when Dean suddenly inhales and grabs Cas by the arm.

“What the fuck is that smell?”

Castiel knew what he means. The moment they entered the hall, their nostrils were assaulted by the mouth-watering smell of luscious bread. Be it for Dean’s own hunger or his palpable taste for pies, the man’s eyes dilated as he looked around, sniffing where it was coming from. But it was everywhere on all tables available. Dean began walking quickly, Cas right behind him.

“Dean.” Bacchus calls him near the fountains ide that has the hunter diverting his direction towards the demigod whom he found on his other shoulder. He feels Castiel tense beside him but doesn’t say anything so he squeezes their entwined hands as they stood almost side by side in front of the demigod.

“Io, Saturnalia.” He greets them, eyes lingering on Dean.

“Bless you too.” Dean says in a rather restless voice, “Listen— uhh this smell? This—bread— where is it coming from?”

Bacchus raises an eyebrow. “You mean our _pistrium?_ The household has its own pistrium and panifex bake our share. But if you wish to have a taste of it, you may have to wait for the master-servants coming from the court kitchen for they have not yet served it. Why don’t you and Castiel join the triclinia?” he points his hands towards a large group of people all lying on their sides in a _tricinium_. Three large couches are put together at the center of the room enough to hold dozens of people surrounding a large table banquet in the middle. Seated on it are happy men and women all wearing elegant togas and tunics.

Dean turns to Cas who nodded as they headed towards it. There is nothing to stop Dean be them god or whatnot from getting his pie. They slowly approached the three-couched-table where the merry making and wine drinking has begun. The important ones are the pastry.

“They are practicing the Saturnalia custom or role reversal.” Castiel supplies as they drew closer.

“I thought Prometheus isn’t interested in any of these traditions?”

“Apparently he changed his mind.”

Dean snorts. “Figures. You haven’t been made his servant, have you?”

“No.” Cas throws him a look and Dean sighs, wondering how long Cas is going to pretend not to notice Prometheus’ advances. But then again, Cas has never been good with flirtation from other people. He has been constantly bombarded for his looks and appeal but did Cas ever reciprocate? Dean remembers the kiss Cas shared with Meg now and thinks how he could have kept his cool back then. Seeing Castiel kissing people as casually these days can make him throw a fit.

They reach an empty spot in one of the tricinium before the two is looking around trying to see how others are doing. Dean feels Cas push him from behind and the next thing, he is sitting on the spread-out couch with two other empty seats surrounding him. But the table is near. Dean turns to Cas who nods at him.

“W-what am I supposed to be served…?”

“Tradition indicates the masters will serve their servants on a banquet while the servants act the part. Beyond that, it depends on the _familia_ of what limitation they set for a role reversal. This is kindness to the slaves, but in fact all food in the banquet has been prepared by the slaves beforehand. This is just a game they intend to observe for the holidays. I have no qualms to serve you, Dean even if we don’t have the typical relationship of master-servant.”

“Man, that is one kink I’d love to take part in.” Dean mutters and Castiel was bodily aware of how close Dean is pressing on his side. Without three-layer clothes, their skin contact is distracting. Dean felt warm, excited. Cas couldn’t help giving his friend a narrowed look. “And you gonna serve me with food, Cas? You gonna take care of me, man?”

Cas turned back at the hunter to find him still grinning at him meaningfully. The angel tilts his head.

“I always take care of you, Dean.”

Something in the rapid change of color on the man’s cheeks must have had the angel curious because he tilts his head. The hunter blushes furiously, aware of how the angel is making the thunder rate beating of his heart.

“Y-yeah, thanks man.” Dean looked down his feet, his ears pink.

“Do you need me to do something for you?”

Dean’s eyes dilated and then he was brushing the angel’s hand away looking thoroughly distracted. It felt like years since he’s got his hands on Cas and thinking about it, Dean shakes his head because it isn’t really the time to be horny. Then again, seeing people around them just nail each other on the wall gives him goosebumps and dirty ideas.

“No, don’t say that kind of stuff, Cas. Uh… just—let’s just get on, I’m really hungry. You said you were gonna feed me, right? What the hell are you waiting for?” he grins.

Castiel blinks. “Umm… okay. You want food, I take it.”

Dean gives him another strange look before smiling. “Yeah. You gonna feed me or not? Thought I got the best master here who didn’t want anyone messing with me?”

“Master?”

“Get your head on it, Cas. It’s Saturnalia. _You’re the master.”_ the hunter said cheekily, his smile making his green eyes twinkle. “We’re doing the role reversal right? You said _I’m yours.”_

Cas pressed his lips grimly. “But you’re not really my servant.”

“Why do you think we’re on this show, Cas?” Dean cleared his throat, “The point is we _act the part, _alright? Right now, I’m the giddy servant being served by my pretty master. Told you we gonna join them. We’re gonna give them one helluva show!”

“You think being called a servant is funny?” the angel deadpans.

_“No, I think I’m hilarious.” _Dean whispered back, letting Castiel straighten up still frowning. Dean smiles boyishly up at the angel like he found the whole situation more than amusing. But Cas seems to remember something that the urge to serve Dean clicked on naturally. The angel looks his shoulder to where the role-reversed masters are coming out with trays of fresh food. Giving Dean one thoughtful look, the angel sighs as the man winks at him.

“Go get em tiger!”

Cas shakes his head, biting his retort almost as if about being an angel and not a tiger. Dean watches the angel finally turning, weaves himself along the number of people and stands just outside where most humans come out with trays of food. Saturnalia role reversal was common yes, but the servants themselves still prepared the banquet anyway so their masters only need to take them from the main table. Dean sees the angel enter the kitchen court, before he pulls his eyes back at everyone else sharing his _tricinium _where the others are all gawking and laughing from some unheard joke.

“You do not fit with an angel. You’re only a human.”

Dean turns sourly behind him and finds Prometheus staring at him intently. The hunter squares his shoulder.

“Says the man who’s supposed to be the champion of humanity? You know what, for a human fanatic, calling me one in that tone kinda breaks your character to pieces.”

Prometheus gives him a cold stare. Dean returns the same equally.

“Castiel has told me all about you.”

“Oh?” there’s a challenge in Dean’s voice.

“He said you are… the righteous man of the future. That he has saved you because as he quoted ‘he is most wholesome epitome of humans ever are’ and that he is willing to die for you. Has died for you multiple times.”

“What can I say? Everyone adores me.” But there's a lace of bitterness there. Yep. Cas may sugarcoat everything if Dean's name is in it, but it doesn't change the fact that Dean is, and will always be the reason of all the terrible things that has happened. Because Dean's misfortune always gets people killed or worst, miserable. That's Dean's legacy all angels and demons know him for. He can tell Prometheus knows.

The demigod is unblinking. “Indeed. And you on your part. What have you done to Castiel? He did not mention it but I could tell. He lost his wings, his position, his power—”

“Hey, Cas can fight his own battle.” Dean stands up, glaring at Prometheus who towers above him but Dean’s glare is enough to crumble a giant, “If he has any problem with those, he should be telling me. Not some god playing a character because he wants to charm _my angel._”

“Your angel?” Prometheus arches an eyebrow. “Bold of you to assume he belongs to you.”

Dean puts up his height, hackles on claiming out. _“The hell he does.”_

The Titan surveys him with his sky-blue eyes, before quietly stepping down. Dean huffs before him and glares again when the Titan opens his mouth.

“But it does not change the fact that you are a _mortal. Mortals die._ Even someone like you who seem to have eluded death multiple times, you will have your end. And I do not think you can still have your ‘angel’ tagging along. Now that Castiel does not belong to heaven, and with your inevitable death, where do you think he will be?”

“Yeah, we try not to cross too many bridges in case other people wants us to burn.” He glares. It’s none of this Titan’s business what he and Castiel have. None of their business at all. Warmth intensifies in the room and Dean does not want Castiel anywhere near this at the moment. Prometheus obviously wants to intimidate him. Like Dean doesn’t play the dice. God or not, this fellow will owe him his ass in the future. Though, his death still doesn’t make Dean happy.

“You say that but you do not really have an idea of what it is to handle immortal beings from the start. Have you considered yourself worthy of our kind? You’re just a human.”

“A job I think I’m really fucking good at.” he has to win this round. He knows he has to. Otherwise the last thread he is clinging on, the one he is using to convince himself it's alright to be with Castiel... if he lets go of that too, it's Cas who will suffer. Because Dean will fuck up what's between them. He has to get over this hurdle... a block Dean's made himself, not anyone. He has to win this. For Cas.

“You still stand on ground of being capable of making Castiel happy but I do not believe you even consider yourself worth the price of Castiel’s affection.”

Dean slams his hand on Prometheus’ toga, earning him surprise looks from people standing by the vicinity, his bright green eyes too threatening to hold. He doesn’t even remember standing from the couch.

“Don’t fucking start with me about self-worth, cause yeah I don’t have a shred of that. The only thing making this body breath is cause I have Cas. I have my brother and if keeping myself worth their time and sacrifices, you’ll never see me die.”

“That may be true. Sacrifices for _you._ What have you sacrificed for Castiel? I do not see your wing clipped.” He gives Dean a once-over with cold eyes, “Do not see you weakening, because Castiel’s grace has reached levels no angel has ever suffered. The last time I see too, he is the only one concerned enough to sacrifice more for you because you always choose to fall five steps at a time. You think you’re the only one suffering because of this curse from the war god? Because if you do and never spare thought to that angel, then you are not doing better for him at all.”

“You don’t decide what’s better for him!”

“As someone from an outsider’s perspective, I assure you, I do. You two are too involved, too intoxicated what you currently have, you fail to see what imbalance and destruction you are causing one another. Only because you are both blinded by faith. That may be something to hold on to. But bear in mind—it is your blindness that will be your ultimate end, and I do not want Castiel to suffer more. Just because he _loves_ and gives more than he receives_.”_

Dean tries not to show how it is cracking him from the surface.

“I don’t think you will be singing this tune if you got that from him, huh?”

“At least, I have never hurt him and never will because I do love him. As unconditionally as I could. Apart from that, your audacity to even compare yourself to me. You are not even a space in the universe we live in. You turn to dust and we move on. I shall think of that the next time I meet Castiel, and this time I shall be the one to properly take care of him. See the difference to wherever heaven you will find yourself in.”

Dean wants to tell him he’ll die in the future but manages to keep his mouth shut.

The two battle over glares one last time before Prometheus pushes past Dean. The hunter slumps his ass down the long, backless couch where the others were lying on their stomachs, legs on the air as they chat. He moodily shifts away from them, before he finds the familiar jar of wine from Bacchus and takes it. He takes a swig and looks up expectantly, waiting for Castiel to return. His quick eyes easily find the angel, black raven short hair too easily distinguishable along the brown and blond blue eyes too intense to miss. Dean watches Cas approach him when he sees Castiel halted in the middle of the atrium by Prometheus.

Dean stares at them quietly.

Prometheus is saying something to Cas with his eyes sparkling like the whole universe is right in front of him. Castiel softly smiles. Dean wavers.

He can only watch the two with eyes unable to pry to the comfortable atmosphere around them. Cas has never been that good with social interaction, but with Prometheus he seems to be at ease, like he is back in his own spot in heaven, able to navigate with somebody who has seen the creation of galaxies and share the same view of the gods. Dean has never been able to comprehend Cas in the level of his powers, being a mere human who constantly goes back to life because he is lucky enough to have heaven’s most fierce warrior in his side. Where he neglects to think… what of it is Cas?

And Dean asks himself… isn’t Prometheus perfect for Cas? Being both immortals and with heart that can care about mortals… no wonder Castiel has inclination for Prometheus, because Cas has always been in loved with _humanity,_ and Prometheus, the provider of the first fire is just the exact version of Dean.

Dean smiles slowly and pulls his eyes away, turning and drinking his heart break because even if he can have Cas he has finally realized that this is better. He can’t be there for Cas forever while Prometheus can secure the angel’s happiness. As long as Prometheus cares about Cas that’s all that matters. It is so right.

But Dean can’t help drowning is sorrow.

Several minutes have passed, may be even longer. Dean finally sees the angel hasten beside him after fifteen minutes. Cas returns carrying a tray of food and offers it to him, kneeling in the process as how the master-servants are doing around. Dean beams at him.

“Hey, handsome.” Dean blurted out. His face rosy red from the wine. Cas squinted at him, feeling Dean’s hand snaking on his waist. “Where did you go? I was getting lonely, Cas.”

“Wine here are of pure extract, so you should take it easy.” Cas commented disapprovingly. Dean’s eyes were glazed as he raised the goblet he’s been holding up to his lips. Cas put a hand on top of it with Dean’s lips planting at the back of his hand. The angel seized the cup, took one good sniff and wrinkles his nose before putting it down the floor. Dean’s eyes following his every movement. “It’s basic grapes, should not be that strong. I suspect they added spices and essence. You should quit drinking before I have to haul you on your ass.”

“Haul me, carry me, take me—what’s all matters, Cas?” the man grins again, “_And what are these?”_

“The libae are what you call the sweet honey cakes of the present,” Cas begins matter of fact, pointing at each presentation. “Panis Primus, heap bread made from coarse grains if you have the palate for it, but I don’t think it differs much from what we buy from the market. Panis Secundus is also made from coarse grains but more edible and this is Panis Rusticus made with bran. I took a sample of each one but knowing your taste I think sweet honey cakes will do in replacement of hot cakes. Pies are not inexistent in this century.”

Dean groans and takes one of the libae.

“Beggars can’t be choosers anyways.” and takes one of the cupcakes looking bread and bites it in front of the angel, letting his tongue touch the side of his lips. He looks up at Cas and gestures at the banquet. “So… Romans, huh. Didn’t know there’s more to them than wearing just one-shoulder capes and being butt naked like it’s a lifestyle. I think I can get used to this.” He wiggles his eyes towards a man walking pass in front of him covered in just a red cape on one shoulder.

“Don’t get used to it.” Cas drawls. Dean smirks and licks his mouth.

He sees Castiel blinks and stares.

Dean is moved by the attention and takes the bread in one whole swallow, licking his lips suggestively. Cas frowns at him this time, but the flash of what seems to be desire in his eyes is already awaken. Dean pushes himself from the couch, leaning close to Cas because _fuck_ the angel is reacting to his actions. Dean finishes his first honey cake, suckling on his honey dipped fingers with passion. He sees Castiel gulp and turns away.

There’s a roar of laughter and clapping. The two turns and find all the guests laughing with the rest of the servants in tumult of fun. A new treat was happening in the middle of the hall—some kind of small theatre act involving two men—or at least one man and the other crossdressing. They were putting an act of chasing each other in front and everyone was just laughing, even Dean. Cas put the tray in front of the hunter who immediately pulled him down beside him with a grin.

Cas met Dean’s eyes. The man was just staring openly absorbed by the angel. He watches Cas do that little tilting of his head on the side when confuse. How pure Cas always looks. How so much good there is to him, so much better… so much light that Dean, with his incessant longing, couldn’t help but feel that this is better. Both of them are better staying like this. Because Cas is too good for him and deserves so much better. Hell, maybe Cas deserves Prometheus. The thought stirred uncontainable anger in the hunter who looks down, biting his lower lip he wonders if it was bleeding.

“Dean—” the angel catches on his mood. “Something wrong?”

_Yeah. Something wrong. Getting your friend to hook up with a Titan is all the way wrong. _Dean sniffs and looks up with a fake smile. He knows Cas can see through him but it’s better this way. Cas deserves so much more.

_“You’re so beautiful, Cas.”_

The premise is something he couldn’t hold back. Cas only blinks in surprise, his eyebrows knitting.

“You’re drunk, Dean.”

“Not enough to see how good you are… and I can understand why you wouldn’t want to be with me, Cas… and hell even if I don’t, I just trust you so much, you know? I don’t think you’d deliberately avoid this… avoid us.” Dean clears his throat. There’s something in his stomach that wants _out._

He suddenly feels too uncomfortable in his own skin. Castiel’s blue eyes intensifies on him but he remains very quiet. Dean feels like the world is bout to turn on him as he looks down, hands rubbing the crumbs of bread off his fingers. No. he lost he battle of claiming. It shows. All he wants to do is bolt and leave. The familiar feeling of self-loathing claiming him for still taking advantage of the angel's presence when he doesn't deserve it. 

“I’m sorry I uh… I had to say this, Cas… I’m sorry I made you uncomfortable.”

“I don’t understand what you’re apologizing about.”

“It’s me saying unnecessary things.”

“Like what?” Cas frowns.

“Like how you and Prometheus must be a match made by heavens.” Dean looks Cas square in the eyes and this time there is so much more in his words. He has fully comprehended why he and Cas cannot be together and this results in him saying it a bit more with vigor, as if doing so would make the declaration much louder than he lets out. Because he can shout to the world how wrongly in love he is with an angel.

Castile stiffens and Dean doesn’t blame him. He shakes his head at once, looking down his hands. He's shaking. It isn't worse, but he can feel his body quivering. Even feel his eyes welling. Castiel looks as if he's seriously considering punching Dean. Dean must deserve it if he can pull that expression from the angel.

“We’re not and even if we are, if I know you’re here, Dean, I will always choose you.”

“Even if it meant falling down the path of a mortal, Cas? Dying? You know when I die, there's nothing for you-"

Castiel gives him an alarmed stare. “Dean—”

“Face it Cas, you and me… we’re too dumb for this… whatever we have.”

Silence.

“And why do you think that, Dean?”

“Cause you know the two of us will never work out.”

“Like I don’t know it.” The angel whispers quietly, making the hunter glance in his direction looking hurt. Fuck. _Fuck. _This is what all the angels in heaven have been trying to tell him from the start—how he is the reason Castiel fell—have fallen in so many different ways. Hearing Cas admit that for the first time is a slap in Dean’s face.

“But I don’t regret it, Dean.”

“You should.” Snaps the hunter.

Castiel gives him a wary look like he is trying to understand where Dean is coming from. He takes his time and frankly Dean doesn’t mind. He doesn’t know why he’s letting Prometheus’ words stir him—it’s probably fucking Rome, Saturnalia, the fact that he’s cursed, that he is worried about Sam and is guilty it seemed like he is taking his time with Castiel here just cause he doesn’t want innocent priestess involved. In short, all his choices are fucked cause every turn he makes, he hurts people. So he stares at the angel as much as he could, knowing a life time isn’t even enough to do it. Even without him in the future to come, Castiel will continue to shine. Castiel will move on. Castiel will remember him, but Dean’s gone but Cas?

Cas will be alone.

He can stare at the angel till his death service arrives because just then—he feels like dying.

The hunter shifts in his position, quietly wanting to get this over with.

“I think we need to talk somewhere just the two of us.” Cas suggested quietly.

“It’s alright… I’m not gonna push it… just want to let you know…”

Cas shakes his head. “Whatever you are thinking, don’t even go there. I don’t think it’s best for us to step on that mine, Dean. Not now when I know you’re only probably saying it because you know you’re in danger. Do you really think I will leave you like this? Stop making fruitless conversation when you know I won’t. I don’t want to.”

“Cas, you know how fucked up a person I am— and it doesn’t even stop. I’m—I’m the epicenter of apocalypses and everything around me gets sucked it—”

“You think I didn’t jump already?” Cas’ tone is hard, but it only makes Dean bite his lips.

“That’s the thing. You didn’t have to and loo at you now… all broken like me…” he hates the way his voice breaks but dammit, his chest is aching so bad like someone’s dropped a ton anvil inside him. Castiel studies him, then reaches a hand and covers the hunter’s hand.

“Dean, I think we need to go back in our room. Just us.”

“No.”

“Dean, please.”

“Uhh, Cas, can you leave me for a sec?”

Castiel looks stunned. “Dean, I—”

“No, I meant,” Dean grits his teeth, feeling the sting in his eyes he doesn’t want to show the angel. “I need uhh… space… lemme think and clear my head for a bit…”

“I will not.”

“Fine.” Dean stands. He’s the one that needs to leave. He finds a hand on his wrist.

Protest begins to form in Castiel’s lips but Dean shakes his head.

“If you stay one more minute with me now… the way I am Cas… I’m telling you man, I’m gonna fucking kiss you till I forget the reason you can’t be with me. I’m going to do it, Cas… I can barely stand looking at you right now without wanting to push you on the wall… but I’ll be miserable cause I know it’s wrong—I don’t want that fucking feeling again…me taking advantage of you. I—dammit, I hurt you, Cas…”

“You have to calm down.” Castiel looks around like the walls are closing in on him.

“Cas—”

“I’m not going to leave you like this. At least, let me take you back in our room—”

“No.” the hunter growls as he stands up, swaying. “I got uh…Leave me alone for now. I promise we will be okay tomorrow.”

“But Dean…”

“It’s fine, Cas… I just can’t have you around me now. Just… _go.”_

Cas doesn’t move. What the fuck does the angel want from him?

_“Cas!” _Dean grinds his teeth. “You want me to tell you to go to hell or something!?”

_“Dean.”_ It’s with equal force and Castiel looks angry now. “If you think this change anything, I promise you, it doesn’t. I will walk away because I don’t want to hurt you—because you look like you’re breaking a part just seeing me. I don’t know what happened, but… I will find you tomorrow and you’re going to tell me what this is about. I will only grant you this wish once. Don’t think another favor like this will happen again, I won’t let you push me away.”

With that, the angel ironically stands up, glare at him once that slowly turns into a soft expression, before the angel stalks off in another direction. Dean watches him go feeling empty.

He has to let go Cas now or he will never. Or at least, see if he could. It isn’t really something new with Dean, drinking to forget everything. But it is so damn hard just now, to see Cas walk away from him. It took Dean’s self-control not to run after the angel and pull him back, to beg for him to take him. But Dean knows he will only make difficult for them so he stays himself. He realizes the reason his body is trembling is not out of anger, but the force of keeping himself still and away from Castiel.

And he realizes this is the feeling of fucking being miserable. He opens his mouth, wanting nothing but to have Cas back. This is torture and the noise surrounding him is nothing to the pang of pain ever ringing on his ears. He sees movement around him and hears music from distance as shadows sway in the music, dancing and singing to their heart’s content. Dean doesn’t know how long he has sat there and the number of other people joining the chairs beside him, but when he is on his seventh cup, a hand clamps on his shoulder. Dean looks up to Bacchus whose eyes are not on him.

The hunter follows his eyes and it seems the light is slowly fading in his world. Castiel and Prometheus have joined the dancers in the middle of the hall, amidst all the cackling laughter with the Titan pulling on the awkward angel who doesn’t seem to be able to understand why he is being dragged in the center. Dean’s eyes linger longingly at Cas, wanting nothing to be the one to pull the angel back in his arms. Cas stands erect while the others dances around him. Prometheus is trying to egg him to dance but Cas only tilts his head and then looks around everyone else. What happens next is enough to bring Dean to grin.

Castiel looks down his arms and toes, then frowns and scowls at Prometheus. He tells something to the Titan who in turn gives a loud bark and clamps both his hands on the angel’s shoulders. Dean instantly reacts. How Cas can stand there with another man while Dean here is seething in anger… but then, he’s the one who told Cas to _walk away._ And Bacchus’ hands on his shoulder that kept him sitting has Dean bowing his head.

“You let him go.” Bacchus states more than asks.

“Found a new way to kill myself.” Dean gulps and burns his eyes on Castiel now being guided by Prometheus in a circular motion. He will never get tired of Cas’ incoordinate movements but the sight of Prometheus’ hands sliding behind the angel has Dean grimacing and looking away.

Bright lights of the fire and merry dance and music and when Dean looks up next, Prometheus kissing Castiel should not have surprised him, but it did. And Dean is cursing, swaying on his chair as he sat straight, Bacchus’ hand sliding down his side.

“I can’t do this… _can’t fucking do this…” _ he pushes pass Bacchus and wades himself out of the many bodies of unknown faces and Dean finds himself running outside the villa tense and angry.

* * *

Not really the first time he went blindly into the night, Dean finds himself into a foot path of an inclining paved road heading god knows where. The night has just set in but the sides of the streets are lit already with burning torches. The roads were purposely inclined slightly as he reached the main road down to the curb mostly functioning as drains and drainage canals. A path of packed gravel for pedestrians ran along each side of road and Dean took whichever his feet chose without really thinking.

He left Castiel in the villa without telling him and he knows his friend will be angry but Dean can’t stand it any longer. He can’t have Cas even if he dies and comes back because Castiel is always better off without him. Dean rocks his fists and grinds his teeth. So much for faith and free will, he wants to believe Cas doesn’t want him. Castiel will realize it sooner than later anyway.

Dean reaches the busier stretches of the main road and pushes absentmindedly in the crowd, knowing nothing but the want to forget and leave everything behind. Tomorrow will be different, it will still be painful but different.

He reaches the robust market filled with people almost half undressed, making out in public and whatever it is they do with wine at hand. Dean sees plenty of popinae, wine bars, and nearly drags himself into one when he forgets he does not have any means of trade or money. He stops just in the middle of the busy road contemplating his choices. He can get laid tonight, he thinks, walking briskly again to one of the emptier street. He would have headed to the public banquet but he thinks someone might recognize him this time from his stupid feat in the altar. Dean grows more livid each step that he hasn’t got a drink to make him forget. Like a burn in the pit of his stomach that latches up to his throat to make him remember. He comes out on another adjoined road where Dean sees people in pack gather outside what looked like a large wooden barn. Romans run toward it in excitement and Dean being on the hunt for a place to spend the night, leads his feet there. Why a barn? Local knowledge has Dean remembering Saturn is also a god of bountiful harvest and farming related. Of course Romans will find appeal in practicing offering gifts or sacrifices to the gods during the winter sowing season. The barn doors are wide open and inside Dean sees a feast going on. He navigates his way pass shoulders till he is within the vicinity, enough to see that it is a private celebration but with most people invited. Triciniums are around but mostly were standing in bland synthesis clothings. In the middle of the hall, a wooden reclining chair is elevated by a podium which is currently empty.

Dean sighs and looks for a place to drink when someone wearing a lavish white toga that exposed much of his chest and legs appeared before his eyes. Dean nearly jumps as a fair young man with blonde locks and piercing blue eyes with porcelain skin stops in front of him. Dean could swear if the Novak blood of Jimmy’s has any ancestor, it would be this Roman. Clearly, Dean can’t believe how any man could look so much Cas’ vessel that he has to catch his breathe. The man’s blonde hair, however, which is a direct contrast to Cas, made Dean see the man as a different person. They stare at each other, Dean frowning at his rapt attention. His features are symmetrically chiseled in angles enough to be noticed as exceptional. The man was giving Dean a look of pure captivation. His eyes sung of lust.

“This is a pleasure.” The man breathes, eyes locking on Dean and shamelessly feasting his eyes on the man’s exposed front down to his waist before raking it all back to Dean’s face. “I do not think I have seen you before.”

“I haven’t been here before.” Dean flashes a flirty smile.

“Well, I welcome you…” the Roman catches his breath again and if Dean was in any greater mood, he would have blushed at the obvious intention.

“I’ve never been around these parts. It’s my first time.” The hunter says then wrinkled his nose suddenly with a narrowed look at the Roman. “You smell nice. Kinda of like bread?” he sniffs the air, leaning a little closer much to the Roman’s shock. Dean feels the man shiver. They catch each others eyes and Dean gives him a suggestive smile.

The blonde haired Roman practically simmered pleasantly. Patches of red appeared on his white cheeks.

“Aelius.” The man smiles.

“Uh, Dean.” Dean had no time to know if his name was even translated in Latin there.

Aelius eyes shone as he watched Dean. “I have spent time in the kitchen, helping out with the pastries. Our pistrinum are known well in the city.”

“I bet it is. Must be good to have a taste.” Dean’s eyes fell on Roman’s body as if to return the favor and waggled his eyebrows. “Nice tattoo.” He winked at the small sun in the crack of blond man’s chest and Dean points at his own exposed anti-possession tattoo atop his heart.

The man’s gray eyes fell on it curiously. Instincts may have pushed the man to raise a hand, aiming to caress Dean’s chest to feel the tattoo Dean lets him.

And it probably began with the touch, but Dean feels lips on his own and the heated way it was given drove Dean to quickly respond. They are quite plenty of hands and then a wall. Dean cranes his neck to catch Aelius’ delicious one and when they look in each other’s eyes fire of lust is burning. Dean doesn’t worry his head when they spent the next minutes kissing and fishing out each other’s tongue. Aelius is gorgeous and fuck his lips can ignite lavas. Each dip burns and Dean would have let himself get carried away. Would have let Aelius lead him because each touch of his lips on his neck, his collar bone is a drive to forget his misery. There is a chance to forget.

Dean is only getting used to Aelius crowding him when the Roman pulls away. Dean groans but then Aelius is pulling his wrist so maybe it isn’t a lost cause. He watches Aelius from behind and can his ass move. Dean gulps but a question appears in his expression when the Roman takes him at the center of the room towards the reclining chair. He turns and out of nowhere, and begins removing Dean’s tunic from his shoulder. Dean holds his breath when half his front is exposed but then Aelius wraps a golden cape around Dean, tying it on his shoulder.

Before Dean knows what is going on, Aelius has pulled him up the podium and the two of them face the crowd inside the barn. Heads turn when Aelius claps his hand and shouts-

“The Saturnalicius princeps has been chosen for this evening!”

Dean’s eyes widen as everyone gave a riotous cheer and roars of approval.

Dean doesn’t know what to say but gratefully Aelius never left his side. He turns at the man in confusion and shakes his head—

“I don’t know—” he begins.

Aelius’ blue eyes sparkle in mirth.

“Is this your first Saturnalia, Dean? Well, I suppose that’s why you stood out for me—you don’t look like anyone I have ever seen… but fear not, a Saturnalicius Princeps is our King of Saturnalia for the night. You are supposed to lead mischief and other proceedings of the celebration here in the convivium like wearing funny clothes, insulting guests or chasing men and women if you like. You are the King.”

Aelius leans on the reclining chair and takes a mock golden crown. Dean lowers his head to accept still winded. The celebration went to fuckfest after that with Dean and Aelius crushing lips. Men and women begin pouring wines on each other followed by wet kisses and hungry flesh.

Dean realizes he loved all this. He loved the party, the booze, the dancing nakedness and life of people without holding back. Aelius has pushed him on the reclining chair, pressing on his hardness, hips rolling that gets Dean arching. Aelius knows what he is doing but Dean can only see one person in the Roman’s face. Amidst the delirious kisses and rutting, Dean closes his eyes and calls for Cas. He loves this, but he wants Cas.

Dean almost sits up explaining something about Castiel but Aelius wouldn’t listen and presses a kiss on his lips again. It is hot and dirty and Dean can only fall back, sighing at the inescapable fucking his body is protesting not to decline. Dean returns the kiss sharply and tilts his head as Aelius begins trailing the veins on his neck. His eyes fall on everyone else in their mundane world of fucking on the floor with hands on inappropriate places. The thought of fucking in The center of all this people has Dean sighing again. Aelius is nibbling on his ears as Dean sighs again.

Fuck, he loves this. He loves Romans. He loves Saturnalia.

But he most especially loves the blue-eyed angel who came pushing both doors of the bar hall open like he did many years ago in the barn they first met. Dean feels his heart jolt seeing the most beautiful creature that ever steps the earth glance around searching for something. Then his blue eyes met his and Dean feels he might die at the intensity the angel was giving him, at the same time he couldn't help bit feel please.

Yes. This is the angel to whom he belongs. Dean would have reached for him if he wasn’t currently trap under Aelius.

It doesn’t matter, Castiel’s blue eyes has locked on him and the dark flash in his eyes did not come unnoticed to the hunter. He watches the angel march into that hallway with bearings of a soldier and Dean is reminded once again that Cas is. Like many years ago, Castiel has led a host of angel to save him from hell. Even with the absence of his wings, Dean can certainly feel it. Dean stops moving and just watches him approach with those deep blue eyes intensifies as he came closer. His beautiful face has Dean imagining wildly that the Roman moving atop him is the angel but yeah... Oh hell yeah.

Castiel has come for him again.

Aelius has noticed his lack of response and comes up to catch Dean’s eyes, his whole face debauched and hungry.

“Dean,” he moans, putting a hand on Dean’s jaw and attempts to kiss him again. “You are the princeps of this night, my king. Tell me what you want. You can have anything.”

“Him.” Dean nods behind Aelius, “I want him.”

Aelius looks behind him to see a foul mood angel glaring at him full of unspoken warning. Aelius doesn’t move as Dean keeps eyes at the angel.

“Don’t touch him.” Cas said in the low rumble in his baritone enough to send electricity under Dean’s skin, “He’s mine.”

Aelius opens his mouth indignantly but Cas only shoots a finger on his forehead and the man is down. Castiel easily cast him off Dean’s body down the floor, his blue eyes blazing.

Dean only stares at him haughtily and Cas is doing the same. Dean knows Cas is worried about him, he can feel the angel almost wanting to reach him. He mustn’t. He doesn’t want to hurt Cas. 

“What are you waiting for?” Dean growls, raising a hand to reach for the angel. Cas is painfully looking at him with his bright blue eyes, asking many things all at once but Dean only has one answer to him.

“I said I want you.”

Castiel’s expression doesn’t even change, but the tumultuous emotion behind his blue eyes are enough for Dean to meet him head on as the angel does not hesitate as his lips landed on Dean’s mouth and sealed their distance with a kiss.

Thank you to [castielslittlesbee](https://castielslittlestbee.tumblr.com/) for thisssssss AMAZING ART!


	13. The Play is over! Applaud!

** _ _ **

** _Acta est Fabula, Plaudite! _ **

* * *

The hall cackled with laughter and cheers, eyes filling with blinding hazy movements as the torch lights danced merrily around. Packed with food, wine and joyous ambiance the crowd jeered at the now naked performers at the center stage, prodding them to please the eyes and stimulate the body further.

There are many who already are not as attentive with hands and bodies occupied in intense sexual gratification with their own partners which added to the howls and moans filling the barn. The dancing fires on torches heating up the room even more.

Oblivious to everything else is Dean who has no plans of pulling back from the haven of Cas’ extremely and terribly, unbelievably and enchantingly tender lips against his own. He couldn’t help himself as he got lost in the sensation of its softness as he pulls him for more. He breathes once and nibbles at the angel’s chapped lips. Cas answers just as passionately, like he finds Dean the only object he wants to worship with kisses. Dean groans, thinking of the many times he has wanted to steal a kiss from Cas and now here he is, feasting on the very supple pair. He breaches Cas’ lips open, steals his tongue into a filthy suckling, slides hands at the back of the angel’s neck to pull him close and takes both their breath away.

_Damn, Cas is so hot and alive._

Castiel pins him on the couch and kisses him with intemperance. Dean has no idea why Cas is so passionate with what he is doing, but the hunter is willing to take what he is given. He wraps both his palms on the angel’s side, rubbing his waist and pulling him close, aware of the thin coverings they both don at the moment, making their hardness easily felt behind the fabric.

“Cas—”

Dean moans at the feel of Cas’ knees in between his legs. At his sound, Castiel pulls up, eyes blue and bright with eyebrows contracting. Dean smiles at him knowing it’s too late for Cas to back out now. Castiel is hungry for him. He can see it in Castiel’s eyes. His eyes were blown away, a little surprised yes, but a glint behind his majestic blue almost was curious of what Dean was to do next. And Dean who never imagined Cas to remain in the position trapped between his elbows, couldn’t help leaning down and kissing him some more. Wishing Cas would never ask that question because the answer was complicated. When about another five minutes have passed and Dean still found his lips latched on Cas bottom lip, did the hunter sighs and pulls back again, bliss on his face.

“Fuck, I need you…” Dean mutters breathlessly. Cas’ plush lips splits into a smile.

“You and your cursed mouth.” Cas says darkly, cupping Dean’s cheeks and looking straight at him like he’s his everything before leaning in and catching Dean’s lips in another wet kiss. Dean responds in earnest. He breaths once but never pulls away. He tries to take the rein but Cas is too adamant to let him. He tries to urge Cas to open for him more, their jaws almost painful at the length of prolonged making out that put other members of festival to shame. Dean is thrilled at the prospect of being watched, the sounds coming out from him becoming painful as he felt his dick reach its height, but nothing could distract him from the object of his lust. He doesn’t know what he will do if this is taken from him… doesn’t know what he’ll do to Cas anyone.

Dean gives a shiver, making Cas pull again to look at him.

“Dean—?”

Dean grabs the back of Castiel’s neck to hold him still, their eyes intense on each other.

“Tell me you fucking want me.” Dean growls deeply, eyes not leaving the angels, “Tell me you fucking want this and I swear I’ll fight any goddamn god who will try to take you away from me.”

Castiel squints. “I don’t understand, Dean. I have been fighting for you since the beginning both from hell, to heaven, purgatory and back… I have always been fighting just to be with you… I’d rip anyone apart who’d take you away from me too.”

The answer softens Dean’s and the look in his eyes must’ve moved Castiel because before Dean knows it, Cas has pulled him to his feet, jumps down the podium, stops to reach a hand for Dean before dragging him out of the many nameless faces of the crowd. Dean follows quietly,

Castiel slams him on the wall, pinning him with both wrists on either side of his head. Castiel looks darkly at him, possessed and dominant.

“Cas—”

“I am going to fuck you, and you are going to be mine forever, Dean. Do you have anything to say to change my mind?” Castiel was serious.

“Fuck, no.” Dean says and lips and tongues hungry for each other’s presence.

Cas moans on his lips when Dean lets his tongue do the leading.

“Fuck, you taste good…” Dean breaths, eyes sparkling like he just discovered the stars.

Cas took one long look at Dean, searching.

“You’re still hungry.” He stated.

“Damn, I am.”

“Then eat.”

_“Fucking gladly.”_ Dean dived down Cas lips again, hands raking at the back of the angel as the hunter once again greedily crashed their mouths together, the angel more than willing to open this time. Dean kept pressing till Cas felt his back hit the couch clumsily, Dean still incessantly and hungrily kissing him in the middle of the celebration. People cheer and follows their Saturnalia King’s display.

_It was one hell of a show._

He feels Cas impatiently tugging on his tunic. He pulls his lower lip from between Dean’s teeth, who chases him but the angel presses a hand on his shoulder.

“We gonna play bite and chew all night?”

Cas stares at him, then apparently reading Dean, he blinks. “You want more.”

Dean grins, his green eyes dancing at the challenge.

“Yeah? We stopping here?”

Cas hums, giving him a strange glare and fuck if Dean doesn’t melt at those clenched jaw which he just realized must feel so good with his dick inside it. He can’t help it anymore. He’s been dreaming of Cas touching him ever since that twisted blue lotus day. He’s been imagining many things and that involves Cas and him doing dirty stuff. Right now, all of those can just come true. Cas’ heated gaze tells him they aren’t stopping midway.

Cas suddenly looked to his left with deep set concentration of an observer. The hall was still loud and many bodies move on their peripheral. He is back on Dean’s mouth like his lips belong there and Dean shows him a yes. Licking at the angel’s lips, Dean opens his mouth more invitingly, fingers snaking behind the angel’s neck. If Cas isn’t a goddamn good kisser! Dean finds it amusing to just let their mouths swallow as both grunts, suckle and pull painfully upwards gain. Cas wasn’t stopping him and this just had to nag in his mind.

Then he feels Castiel’s firm hand sliding down his back, pulling his face with eyes around distractedly. Geez, how can he be so distracted? Dean moans at the lost of the lips and nips down a bite on the angel’s and whispers to his ears.

“You gonna make me limp all night tryin to see who’s peeking on my booty, Cas. But kinda becoming possessive, I like that.” Dean bites Cas’ lobe, feeling butterflies in his stomach.

Castiel blinks and licks his lips. Dean wanted to help him at it but he had to address this now, before either of them forgets. But Cas was the same, staring at Dean with the same curiosity he graces every little nuance he observes the man does.

“Wanna take me away, angel?” Dean finally says when Cas remains immobile on top of him but still managing to look as hot as fuck.

“I want to.” Cas admits boldly, “People here are looking at you like they want to eat you and I want to show them you belong to me alone.”

“You gonna make me yours, Cas?” Dean gingerly smiles, “Gonna finally take me?”

Cas practically tilts his heavenly head from the couch and Dean aches to reach for him. But he has to confirm this. He has to or he’ll go mad. His body has been longing for Cas ever since they came there and it wasn’t just because they were alone together, in a land far away from their reality. A place where body speaks louder than any logic could explain, where the only thing moving people to be happy relied on their ability to freely explore, no question asked. Not just because his attraction to the angel has become ten times stronger than before, after witnessing a world where others are just freely _them_. If there was anything that defined free will, it was here. But Dean isn’t gonna set aside Cas like that just because of his carnal needs.

_He wanted this._ Cas wants the same and it thrills Dean when the angel slips both hands under his waist and pulls him up the couch. Dean grins wide when he Cas’ lap excitement feeling his lungs, his legs spread wide on his side, arms wrapping around the angel’s shoulder. He internally groans when his length rubs with Cas’ own cock. Dean looks down and from where he sits, he can clearly see that Cas is also as hard as him. Only the veil of their tunics is hiding whatever there is to hide but one thing is clear—they’re gonna get laid tonight. No way is Dean letting Cas’ cock away now. Not after getting a pick at its length. He wants Cas, wants Cas now.

They stare at each other too long, too intense, too hungry.

“I’m going to take you tonight regardless. And I apologize for that if it may seem that I took advantage of my need tonight, Dean.”

“You kidding me, Cas? _I wanna fuck you right here and now!”_

“Dean.” Cas’ hoarse voice is music in the hunter’s ears. It vibrated down his stomach, hitting his gut and making his dick twitch more but the angel nudges his cheeks away when Dean tries to kiss him. Dean pulls, looking him in the eye. How can Cas still be so calm when he’s got a sexy human on his lap, the hunter will never understand. And how can he, Dean, not fuck himself to this gorgeous angel he’s been pinning for a very long time, also eludes him.

But the weight of Cas gaze seeks his rapt attention. Dean slides a hand and takes a grab on Cas’ cock, stroking him and smiling as he sees Castiel’s lips tremble.

“Whatever you gotta say Cas, gotta have to make it short or we’ll both explode here, y’hear? Damn your big…” he sighs and rubs the tip of his thumb on the head of Cas’ cock.

Castiel shuts his eyes for a moment, before looking up and staring at Dean anyway.

“Dean… all I’m saying is there’s nothing wrong with getting caught up with something that exists naturally to humanity.” Cas is still too quiet, “This… longing… I understand it. You have needs that needs to be addressed and to control yourself amidst the brash environment will be torture, especially for you. I see your pain, Dean. I always do and I do not mind participating, if it’s with you. But…”

“What are you talking about, Cas?” Dean can’t help himself as he rubs his ass cheeks on Cas’ lap. The angel is too warm, too beautiful not to take. Too delicious not to taste. He feels his balls grind at Cas’. It made him moan dirty. “Dammit, Cas, y’really gonna make a speech now?”

If Cas seems like a lightning in a bottle with no control whatsoever, Dean is proven wrong. Cas stares at him, breathing hard and lustful. Yet still too serious, the little creases on his forehead suggests he is really thinking carefully of what he was about to say next. Dean swallows. How Castiel can continue to drive him on a corner with his little quirks, Dean is begging to know.

“Won’t you take me, Cas? _Please? Please fuck me, man.”_

The begging does it. Cas’ eyes round and before Dean knows what’s happening, Cas has lifted him of his lap. He stands up erect, Dean making funny sounds as he remains clinging on the angel, arms and legs wrapped about him. Castiel is eyeing for a better place, it seems.

Dean bites his bottom lip when Cas carries him down the stage. Cas looks too much the badass angel he met in that barn many years ago. How Cas have changed over the years, acting more human than actual humans in the world. The lone angel who lead and fought during the rebellion against heaven. Cas who had become his friend, his awkward little angel friend who couldn’t decipher tv jokes from sarcasm. He often forgets how Cas was this heavenly warrior that charge in hell to save him. He often forgets because Cas was just Cas.

And Cas now wants to take him. All of Dean’s prayers are coming true. At least, Cas answers now because if Cas hadn’t Dean might just die.

“Let’s get out of here.” Cas’ eyes gleamed dangerously, not letting go of Dean as he heads for the direction of the wall. But Dean is too busy marking Cas’ neck to bother where Castiel is taking him. Cas’ skin is emitting warmth that must be as hot as the sun. Dean suckles on his exposed vein, nibbles up his jaw and stops just for good measure on the angel’s lobe, biting and suckling till he feels the angel tense.

_“Dean.” _Cas mustered his growl.

“Fuck me on the wall, Cas.” Dean kids, nuzzling his nose on the angel’s cheeks.

“Not here. I don’t want anyone to see you… you have no idea how beautiful you look, Dean. I don’t want to share to the world what you’d look like when I fill you.”

“You jealous—? Don’t want anyone fucking me with their eyes.”

“No.” Cas growls. “And no one is gonna touch you when I’m here. You don’t want them. _You want me.”_

_"Fuck me, Cas.”_ He makes a grinding friction with his hips. His body is needy.

“I will. You are irresistible like this, Dean. I really want to feel inside you and make you cry… punish you for leaving without my permission… punish you for letting yourself get taken advantage by that human… you’re mine, alone Dean.”

Dean sighs lovingly.

“You wanna take control of me, angel?”

“If you only want me to, Dean.”

“Yeah, yeah take me all the way you want me to.”

“Good. Because the way I’m feeling, Dean…when you left the villa… makes me want to tie you up and make you just mine.”

“You have kinks, Cas? Man where do you learn all these dirty stuff?” Dean grins.

Cas gives him a lopsided smile. “You make a very good tutor for basic human needs.”

“Told you I’d teach you a thing or two.”

Cas stops then and Dean looks behind him to see a man frowning at Castiel while he stands outside what looked like a door camouflage to look like a part of the wall. Dean blinks and sees many more of these hidden doors across the whole barn. What the hell? The guard reacts to Cas but without saying anything, Cas takes Dean’s weight on one hand and taps his fingers on the human’s temple. The man crumples on the ground and the angel opens the door.

Dean’s eyes widen to see a small shack inside with an empty canopy bed filled with sheets. The red curtains above it tells Dean this isn’t your typical barn after all just as Cas shuts the door close and carries him to the bed.

“What—?”

“This is a brothel, Dean.”

_“What?”_

Dean gets dropped on the soft bed without preamble, Cas looking at him with silent determination to take control. Dean sees his eyes rake down his body, the tunic halfheartedly trying to cover what is left of his unexposed skin. Cas is gonna be in control of this and frankly Dean has no issues with that. True, he didn’t like following orders. He didn’t like being told what to do. But when the angel strips the remaining of his tunic off and starts crawling towards him from the edge of the bed, Dean just knows he’ll say yes to Cas every moment of every day. He trusts Cas too much to believe the angel wouldn’t want to control him out of selfishness. Because Cas was selfless like that. What Dean doesn’t trust is his instincts and emotions that will always be too powerful once connected to Cas. Because the moment this happens now, Dean is sure he will never be able to let go of Cas.

Castiel catches both his knees and Dean groans when the angel spreads them open. His throbbing cock lay on his torso and Cas’ eyes linger at it, biting his lower lip and gulping just a little.

“Cas…” Dean pleads again. He can’t be getting off just because of Cas looking at him!

“You’re beautiful, Dean.” Cas tells him, placing hands on Dean’s waist that got the man hitching his breathe, sliding to his thighs and taking hold of his cock. Dean whimpers and Cas’ eyes glint as he strokes him lazily. “I’ve… I’ve wanted to taste this when you gave me the permission to touch you… remember that, Dean?”

“How can I forget?” Dean watches in amazement as Cas slowly leans down and kisses the side of his cock gently. He clenches his fists on the sheet on his sides. Cas strokes him again from the hilt up the head and Dean loses it. “_Fuck…Cas…_you… I wanted more…”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Cas looks up at him, blue eyes blown, his face already too low that Dean sees his face with his dick in the middle. Dean grumbles, his torso moving up and down as he hitches his breathing.

“Thought it stupid… thought you didn’t want me…”

“Why wouldn’t I want you?” his stroking starts picking up pace and Dean trembles on his touch.

“Fuck, Cas…”

“I’ll show you just how much I need you, Dean.” The angel takes Dean’s hard and throbbing cock into his mouth. Dean grinds his teeth, arching back, reaching for Cas’ rumpled hair and digging deep into his scalps._ His mouth… Cas’ mouth is fucking hot and awesome._

_“Cas!” _his voice is frenzied, legs opening wide as Cas went too deep with sucking him. Cas hands move under his balls and Dean practically hitches another breath when the fondling begins. Castiel takes Dean whole in one swoop, breathing not being a problem at all and for a moment Dean feels everything getting sucked out and out and out forever. His knees begin to shake, his body begin moving on his own—he wants to fuck Cas’ mouth—Cas is too good.

_“Cas…” _he rasps, breathless as he rolls his hips, egging to grind, “Cas, your mouth…too hot, damnit… wanna fuck you…”

Cas doesn’t let up, but he flickers his eyes open. The sight of the angel with Dean’s cock in his mouth has the hunter moaning. He feels too dangerously on the edge; feels he might just fill Cas’ mouth with his cum. He wants to. Damn fucking god he wants to.

“Cas…” Dean says the angels name again when the angel begins pulling up, suctioning the tip of his cock and sliding back down with pacing that delivers Dean straight to heaven. The man groans astonishingly loud, head tilting up, hands grasping on the angel as he bobs up and down between him, taking him to places with eyes shut. _“Oh fuck… Cas… that fucking mouth…Oh, Cas, I’m gonna…!”_

Cas must’ve felt the rumble of Dean’s orgasm and he stops, not pulling his mouth away. Dean groans as his voice explodes the same time a wave of orgasm shakes his body. Cas drinks it all, bobs up and down to take out all of Dean’s cum straight to his throat. This is impossible, all of this must be a dream and Dean will wake up with a hard cock he needs to take care of on his own again. But when Dean opens his eyes and still sees Cas passionately pumping him with his mouth, Dean nearly cries at the sight and strokes Cas’ hair. The angel possessively doesn’t let go until he is sure he has taken everything. Once the last spurt of Dean’s cum is out, Cas pulls out, leaving a trail of wet, shiny Dean thrills to see that sinful lips kiss the tip of his now half hard cock.

It is just enough to keep him hard again.

Castiel then looks Dean straight in the eyes. Then all spaces are gone as Cas crashes his cum dripping lips to Dean’s. The hunter tastes his own cum from the angel’s lips, salty and all, but with Cas’ tongue coming all the way to his throat, he decides he doesn’t care. Cas is already hard when the angel presses him down the bed, sinking with him with sounds of pleasure leaving both their lips. Dean pulls out from the kiss and leads the angel down his neck. He loves Cas marking him there. Loves the feel of Cas’ steaming mouth latch on his pulse point, biting and suckling on a particularly sensitive area while their bodies rub together, contact heating up their skin like sun’s been shining on them all day.

Then a finger slides inside him while Cas is busy on top of him.

_“Yes, yes… yes, fuck…!” _Dean breathes when Cas’s mouth slides down his chest to nip on his bud. Castiel presses his tongue flat before biting him, causing Dean to moan again, feeling his chest is on fire with that lava of a mouth. Does Cas have any idea what he’s doing to him?

Castiel’s fingers seems to have mind of its own as it stretched him with one, then two… cracking his ass cheeks and spreading him beneath while his body catches fire from Cas’ tongue all over his body. Losing himself, eyes shutting at how wonderful Cas pressed against him felt. Before long, Cas is on his other nipple, biting and playing like it’s a hobby. The fingers don’t let up and Dean moves more on instinct to fuck on the fist.

Castiel suddenly holds him still with a frown and Dean groans. He wants Cas inside him. Wants him. Wants him. The words must’ve come out of his mouth, or Cas is just diligently listening because the angel smiles on his stomach. Soon, he strays down Dean’s abdomen, staying on top of him. His fingers disappear and Dean makes a dying sound, only to find Cas mouth kissing his cock before dangerously lapping Dean’s wet whole.

_Son of a bitch, this is good._

Dean groans. He tosses his legs wide as Castiel gets tongue deep in his ass, lapping on his dripping hole and eating him alive. Dean trembles when a finger goes in. How the hell does Cas know all of this!?

He wished it didn’t have anything to do with Cas’ misadventure as a human on his own or Dean swear he’s gonna hunt his old self back when the angels just fell and gives himself a smacking.

Dirty sounds began coming from Cas whose nose presses on Dean’s perineum. Dean can’t help but fold and call his name. His body catches the intensity of Cas’ tongue in him, fucking him already with steady movements. Then Cas is eating him again, licking his hole for a good measure of a quarter before straightening up. He hears the angel gasp and Dean looks at him from half lidded eyes.

Cas must’ve love what he sees there because his blue eyes widen while Dean breathes through his mouth. It must be the way how Dean has placed both arms on his eyes, how his mouth call Cas name and how his body is splayed before the angel who sits between his legs. His legs are wide apart, inviting and a picture of art. Cas traces the muscles of his stomach, eyes concentrating hard on Dean, intense and communicating.

“You look so beautiful, Dean… I don’t know… just you.”

Dean nods as he understands and shuts his eyes close. He feels Cas’ warm hands on his thighs, pushing him a little wider and fingering on his hole again. The stretch is done for some time and Dean thinks, he just thinks he’s ready.

“Damnit, Cas…” he growls. He feels his body tremble at all the accumulated energy that threatens to burst and still he feels empty. “Want you now… inside me, now!”

Cas moves at the order and pushes his knees to Dean’s thighs, pressing onhis hips. Dean catches his breath when the tip of the angel’s cock ghosts on his hole. Fuck, he’s gonna get busy with Cas’ later. For now, all he can think about is the burning feeling trapped in his body that needs an outlet to explode. He wants Cas in him, want him so badly.

“I love you Dean.” Cas says with conviction.

Dean groans when the head of Cas’ cock catches on his rim before slowly pushing in. Dean’s body tensed at the penetration, then Cas finds a good thrust that slides him all the way in the hunter feels a surmounting amount of energy rush in and out of his body. Cas’ cock is big and it burned inside him. Cas observes Dean and lets the hunter adjust.

“Dean…” Cas’ voice like a thunder from the ground. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” Dean grinds his teeth then slowly let his breath slow and relax. Cas is inside him, Cas is everywhere for him. Dean licks his lips and nods at the waiting angel. “Fuck me.”

With a hiss, Castiel obeys, finding a pace and thrusting into Dean into slick motions. Once accustomed, he rhythmically thrusts into Dean with increased pacing. Long and hard cock sliding in and out, Dean is lost to the world. He catches on, meeting Cas’ movements till the angel himself is crying his name in warning. Cas then drops on top of him, gathering Dean in his arms and kissing him while he fucks the hunter in abandon.

Dean lets a moan to escape his lips as Cas crashes their mouth again. Castiel’s lips are swollen and Dean likes the idea he is the reason for it. They kiss and they fuck. Cas pulling his mouth once as his body reacts to Dean’s tightness.

“Dean., you feel so good.”

“You’re welcome…” Dean hisses on his ears, biting Cas’ shoulder. “Fuck me more.”

“Dean…” mutters Cas, closing his eyes at the pressure Dean was giving beneath him.

Dean quirks a small smile.

“Hey,” he whispered, draping his body against Cas and staying his lips on the angel’s ears. “If we’ve time travelled here… does that mean the other you is in heaven now? Will there be two of you? Like you with wings?”

Cas opened his blue eyes searchingly up to heaven.

“Good point. But I do not remember any of this. There weren’t any orders from heaven to strike Ancient Rome at this early stage. I do not think I have any reason to—” Castiel stifles a groan.

Dean has taken the opportunity to focus his eyes on Cas’ serious expression before he rolls his hips. He watches Cas’ face break in pleasure, took every inch of it in his memory as Cas tightly closed his eyes and bit his lower lip as if to anchor himself from losing it. But Dean is determined to feel him more and slams his ass just as Cas rocks forward. Cas let the awaited moan escape his lips.

_So hot._

“Dean…”

The hunter kissed his ears with wet lips, grinding further.

“_What if I prayed to you now?”_ he whispered to Castiel. “Will you come down here from heaven?”

“No.” Cas wrapped his arms around Dean’s neck to keep his shaking limbs from thrashing around. “I... I don’t know you yet, Dean… I wouldn’t even listen to your prayer…”

Dean latches his lips on Castiel’s neck, humming in fervor as the angel allowed him access when he raises his chin. Dean enjoyed every skin he marked, rivetted that he could actually do it. He licked all parts he could get, his tongue flat on every inch of the white skin. Cas’ breathing hitches as he grinds Dean too. The hunter’s eyes roll back to his head. It is maddening, and the most maddening thing was he wanted more. He trails down Castiel’s throat but before he could taste anything on that exposed collar bone, he felt Castiel’s tight grip on his shoulder. The world turned and then Dean finds himself flat on his back, Castiel on top of him looking fierce.

Dean must’ve registered wrongly in his brain because even at the prospect of the angel angry he found arousing. He gulps with eyes following the line of Castiel’s neck the little skin covered by his useless tunic. But Dean couldn’t take anyone enough for the tiny covering that made his mouth water. The funny thing was he wasn’t drunk or anything. He was just drunk of Castiel and craved for more.

* * *

“I don’t wanna go back.”

Castiel raises his head sharply from Dean’s shoulder where he has perched his head after the afterglow of their seventh fervent love making. The sheets are rumpled all over their heaving bodies, covering most of their middle and leaving their legs exposed. Cas has his arms wrapped about Dean’s torso, legs on top of Dean’s thigh, humming quietly when the hunter huffs his thoughts out grouchily.

“Don’t want to go back…where?” Cas raises both eyebrows as he peers at Dean’s green eyes. The man’s body is still flush with luster of sweat glistening on his toned skin. He has one arm behind his back while his other is busy making patterns behind Castiel’s bare back.

“Prometheus.” Dean finishes with a pout gracing his tempting lips.

“Why?”

“You know why. I don’t like him. He gets to me like… very bad. Let’s not go back in his villa, Cas. We can always find uh… an empty place like this… or those insulae. We can get money and live on our own until the 25th. We don’t actually have to stay with him, it’s not… I don’t like it.”

Cas sits up, the sheet on his stomach falling down his lap. He gives Dean a curious look before blinking and narrowing his eyes.

“I don’t have any preference for him, Dean. In case you are feeling… jealous.”

“I’m... not… uh…” Dean casts a look at the angel, his free hand snaking to the angel’s waist. He looks Cas in the eyes, blue eyes he keeps drowning on every time it falls on him. The thought of Cas even speaking to Prometheus after this is like a slice in Dean’s limbs. “Yeah, I’m jealous. Sue me. I don’t want to go back there where a god or Titan is after my boyfriend.”

Dean clamps his mouth. He said it. He fucking said it. On his part, Castiel doesn’t seem to think it a big deal but the curl of a smile that stayed in his mouth is enough to assure Dean he likes the idea.

“Okay… we don’t actually have to go back there for a couple of days. We can stay here in the market and you can enjoy Saturnalia this way too, Dean. But no more getting pulled into other people’s arms. I don’t know what I’ll do if I see anyone else lay a hand on you. You’re mine.”

Dean’s cheeks flushed and he pulls Cas on his chest. The angel complies and ends with a soft kiss on their lips. Then Dean’s hands are roaming down Cas waist, lower to his cheeks where he takes pleasure in squeezing both the ample lumps. Cas nuzzles his nose on Dean’s cheeks with a smile.

“We’ll stay here then… just the two of us?” he asks, slipping his fingers between the perfect crack beneath the angel. Cas nods, his lopsided smile.

“Yes, Dean. Just the two of us.”

Dean tastes Cas’ lip again, already feeling aroused as he dipped two fingers in.

“Want me inside you now?”

“I… I think I’d like that.”

Dean kisses Castiel full in the mouth his chest less burdened than ever. He doesn’t have to worry about the world for now, doesn’t have to worry about Prometheus or the fire. Doesn’t have to worry that Cas loves him because here they are in their perfect little spot. So today and for a few more, he and Cas, they’re going to enjoy Saturnalia.

And after that… come what may, Dean Winchester feels he can take on any Apocalypse right at that moment with his angel right by his side.

“Cas?”

“Mmm?” Cas can’t seem to pull his lips away from grazing on Cas’ jaw. There’s a slight pause of breath as Castiel adjusts himself on top of him.

_“Would you like to celebrate with everyone?”_

Castiel looks at him. “What d’you have in mind?”

Dean pulls Castiel off the makeshift bed. Gathering the soft material of his cape, he wraps the angel’s waist with it, grabs a decent toga of his own and off they walked out of the door. Castiel silently follows him with questioning eyes while Dean pushes past Romans all in their own orgasmic world. The hall is still filled with voices but they are not so innocent. He feels Castiel grab his lower waist, but Dean doesn’t stop, not until he sees the familiar red chair at the top of the platform still vacated. He leads Cas up there who goes along without a word. When they climb at the top, the angel gives him an arching eyebrow, before Dean is grinning and pulling the angel down the red reclining seat.

Castiel sits in the middle, looking only at Dean’s eyes. There’s fire hidden underneath the blue, but like Cas knows what’s in his mind, the hunter slowly gets to his knees and put both his hands on either knee cap of the angel.

“Dean—”

“I’m nervous, you know.” Dean says, swallowing hard with eyes flickering from the blue eyes to the angel’s obvious hard line under the red cape. “Like I’ve… like we’ve never done this before.”

“Not like this, no…” Cas licks his lips, already following the movements of the hunter’s plush lips. “At least… you are being… a little wild.” Dean smiles and let Cas talk while he slowly pushes the angel’s legs apart. Castiel hitches a breath. “Dean…”

“Roman’s book rule, remember?” Dean slips his hand under the red cape, watching closely as Cas closes his eyes and loses himself at Dean’s touch. Dean likes his privacy as much as he likes eyes on his price and right now, Castiel is his and he wants the whole fucking Rome to know that. He slowly strokes Castiel’s long cock, feeling it harden again in his touch in that familiar way, leaving no skin untouched from the tip of the head already wet and slippery from their previous intercourse, and now he can feel its familiar heft gaining hardness. Dean’s mouth waters.

“I want you in my mouth.” He whispers, making wild strokes that makes Cas’ body tremble. The angel opens his eyes, lust filled and blown away, his swollen lip from Dean’s ministrations making the hunter want to fuck those lovely pinks again.

Castiel raises an eyebrow. “You really….ah… want my permission…?”

“It turns me on when I don’t have to, honestly.” Dean squeezes the head of Castiel’s cock, eliciting a beautiful moan from the angel who bucks forward, head falling on Dean’s shoulder. “God, you’re so beautiful, Cas… I just want to show the world who owns you.”

“I’m yours.” Castiel gasps when Dean rubs his thumb on his leaking slit.

Dean smiles, pushes himself deep between the angel’s legs, takes out the hard to rock erection and takes it to his mouth. Castiel buckles on him completely, and Dean lets him hide his face away from the crowd because no matter how much a public display this is, he is still protective of that. No one gets to see Castiel’s coming expression except him.

Determined to get the reaction, Dean bobs his head and sucks enthusiastically like it’s the most delicious nectar in the world. He can hear Castiel’s uneven breaths, can feel the heat emanating from his body, but mostly he loves the way the angel’s cock belongs in his lips. He works fast, bobbing deeper, deep throating him till the tip of Castiel’s dick is pushing at the back of his throat. Then he pulls up, sucking on that sensitive crack at the tip of the head, licking it tenderly, playfully trying to suck and bite like it’s the most delicious thing. He keeps a firm hold around the base of the cock, not wanting Cas to come too soon.

When about after another full circle of the moon, Dean suctions so hard, Castiel hisses in warning when Dean lets his teeth graze on the length side of Castiel’s cock. But it’s magnificent in his mouth, so hot and soft on the sides he can’t help bobbing and sucking on till the angel is shivering.

“Dean…”

Oh he loves that break of his name when Cas is about to come. Dean playfully holds a little longer then with a kiss and a deep throat, he lets Cas come. He lets Cas jerk back to his mouth, though the angel hesitates, making sure not to hurt Dean, but the hunter claws on his ass cheeks, kneaading and clawing, pulling and squeezing hard, deeper and deeper till the angel’s back is arching and Dean beneath him so deep.

Dean doesn’t let up, he takes all Castiel’s come because this is part of Cas he will always belongs to him. He swallows all that hot semen, takes the last spurt of Castiel’s come, before letting the still hard cock slip from his lips, leaving trails of come in his lips. He looks up at Cas, sees the angel staring back at him with the most blown away expression as Cas brushes a thumb on his bottom lip, wiping away a drip of his come.

“You’re beautiful, Dean… so beautiful like this.”

Dean smiles. “What can I say? I love corrupting you.”

“If you’re the corrupter, I’d jump in decadence any time.”

“Shit, Cas, it’s like I’m really the bad one here.”

“I don’t care cause I’m already yours and I will let no one see you like this… this platform is the only thing saving these Romans from my jealous outburst.”

“Jealous outburst.”

“It’s a thing I only just discovered about me.”

Castiel smiles a little, thumb still playing on Dean’s chin. Then slowly, he leans down, pulling the hunter’s face to him an they kiss so wetly and passionately, it burns every muscle in Dean’s body. Then just like that, Dean feels Cas pulls him to his feet, the angel still seated by the reclining chair. Dean stands up, sees the room so dim and so far away with shadows of other people around them. He had forgotten how they are at the very center, how everything here is about wild sex and how he and Cas are in the middle of it.

It turns him so hard, but nothing like Castiel wrapping his lips around his unattended erection.

_“Fuck…” _Dean hisses, a hand landing on Castiel’s sex hair, “Cas… damn….”

Castiel’s blow job is so satisfying, so turning on that Dean can’t help the instinctive movement of his hips, trying to get deeper in the angel’s mouth. He tries to stop himself, but when Castiel stays still as if giving him full reign, Dean’s whole body shivers and with both hand on the angel’s sinful head, he fucks Castiel’s mouth.

Its wild and dirty and very very arousing as he watches his dick up and out of those fucking pink lips. Those lips that always utter protection, loves and promises. Dean can’t help as he throws his head back, feeling the tightness of the angel’s mouth. Feeling his dick hit his throat again and again and loving the moan coming out of his angel. He loves Cas closing his eyes, loves Cas opening his mouth more as he let Dean fuck him. Dean grunts when he feels the building tension in his body reach up. He raises his left leg on the couch, finding another position to drill in his angel’s mouth, making sure not to lose himself too much because fuck he wanted to just keep doing it. His hips are tireless, his legs getting numb as he rapidly increases his pace. It’s so hot in Cas’ mouth. He watches Cas for any discomfort but Castiel is too lost in it to even care.

Without warning, Dean stiffens and with a final thrust, he holds Castiel in place, making sure Cas takes all of him too. It’s inappropriate, yes, but Dean wants Cas as Cas wants him. Still buried in his lips, he lets a final spurt, before pushing Castiel down the chair and kissing him in the lips, tasting his come, chasing Castiel’s tongue and just letting themselves lose it.

“I want you inside me, Cas,” Dean whispers, not wanting the feeling of his and Cas sated body to go away incomplete. “Fuck me again.”

Castiel’s blue eyes flickers. “In this position?”

Dean hisses. He’s gonna get to ride Cas… “Fuck yes!”

“I want that.”

Dean groans at how readily Castiel is with his requests. His arms move about him frantically, straddling the angel, one hand already jerking Cas’ cock to hardness before sitting on him and taking his cock deep down Dean’s hole. The hunter feels the stretch, a familiar stretch and it drives him crazy as Cas’ hole cock fills him.

“Fuck!”

“Move.” Cas exhales. Dean looks down at him. Green eyes glinting, the hunter takes Castiel’s wrists and plants them above the angel’s head. Castiel just watches him with no sign of any doubt.

“Love you like this Cas… all for me to take.”

“You know I will get mine later?”

Dean grins and nods, then fucks himself on the angel’s cock, watching Castiel’s painted face full of driven lust and desire. He feels Cas’ hip push up, almost inching from the couch to meet him and it blows Dean how everything is just in place, Cas’ body made just for him. How the angel is letting him do whatever Dean wants, how Dean wants more than Castiel’s body, but his very being. The idea that all this belongs to him, that it’s okay to be with Cas is the only thing he has to keep as he drives Castiel insane with the playful movements of his hips.

“Cas…. _Fuck…”_

He drapes his body on the angel, releasing his wrist. Castiel quickly wraps his arms around Dean and pulls on him tight. The sound of skin to skin and the lava beneath their bodies leaves no room for spaces. Their lips meet, open mouthed and wet as they drive to the edge. Their climax is expected as Dean growls out on Cas’ lips, opening his eyes to meet those blues. Then he kisses Cas gently, not moving from his position, letting Cas inside him a little longer before burying his nose on the angel’s neck.

“Cas…let’s… for awhile…”

Cas strokes his back.

“Whenever you want, Dean. I’m not letting you go.”

“I’m sorry—”

“Shh…” Cas kisses the side of his head and adjusts his hold a little so that they’re even closer. “The important thing is you’re in my arms. You’re letting me. Don’t run away from me again, Dean."

_Please. _The hunter doesn't mistake those unsaid words.

“Sorry.” Dean murmurs, kissing Cas’ skin and sighing. “I won't ever leave you again, Cas.. I’m yours, Cas.”

How could he ever think of leaving Castiel?

Castiel stays quiet, but the way he pulls on the hunter is enough response as Dean closes his eyes.

This better not be a dream.


	14. Man is wolf to Man

_ ** ** _

_ **Lupus est homo homini-** _

* * *

Dean wakes up with a satisfied grunt escaping his lips.

Opening his eyes to the world, he blinked with a start at the bright sunlight almost upon his shoulder. Wrinkling his nose, his eyes shot open at the delicious smell he caught in the air. Hunger winning over drowsiness, Dean quickly pushed his chest from the mattress, eyes scanning the table just beside the bed to find a stack of bread, cheese, drumsticks, and fruit there. The hunter’s mouth watered. He scrambled to his feet, the sheets falling off his naked body but he didn’t care. His stomach was growling it felt like forever since he last ate.

Not that he isn’t fully satisfied. Last night with Cas felt so dreamy, Dean can still feel his stomach churn being together with him like this. Doing everything together, sleepin together under a small roof which they had been living in for two days. Two days of him and Castiel with no one to bother them and no one to go between them. No wonder Dean feels satisfied even with the low ceiling and single bed. Fuck, all he needs is a haystack and Cas on top of him and he will forever be grateful. He smiles as he chews the meat. He is so whipped by the angel.

He was already on his third drumstick, sitting his ass at the edge of the bed in his birthday suit when the curtain by the door was parted open. Castiel walked in wearing a decent white tunic with embroidered brown lines that covered most of his body into a one-shouldered cape that reached his knees at least.

“Dean? Good, you are up.” The angel crossed the threshold and placed a large bottle of some beverage Dean couldn’t tell what but he would bet on the _non-alcoholic,_ “I’ve been meaning to ask you what these are. I found these under the pillows and was afraid you’d crush it when you wake up. But if you are the one who put it there…” He pulls out a wax figurine from the heap of mantles at the edge of the table and showed Dean a small figure that looked like the head of a barbarian’s axe and a ringlet made of wax. The angel narrows his eyes at the objects while Dean snatches the figure and puts it in front of his face.

“Can’t you tell?” the hunter grins, smirking. Castiel tilts his head. “It’s a gift for you! Remember when Prometheus gave you that wax figure of himself on the third day of Saturnalia? You said people give each other gifts. I’m giving mine now. Better late than never, right?”

“Oh. Thank you, Dean.”

“You don’t like it?”

“Of course, I do, Dean.” Cas’ face contorts very seriously as he cradles the object, “But I am accustomed to the figurines they make during Saturnalia and this is the first… of its kind. What is it exactly?”

Dean blinks as Cas raises the axe figure and snatches it away from him.

“You’re holding it the wrong way, Cas. It’s like this.” He shoves it right under Cas’ face again, the angel leaning away a little as he begins to get crosseyed. Dean sighs. “It’s an angel! I had it custom made yesterday. My wink still works like a charm even here, y’know.”

He notices Cas attentive eyes on the object as he carefully examined the shape and turns it in his hands. Dean, embarrassed, looks at the angel when Cas turns to him, face reddening and mouth gaping.

“Dean…”

“It doesn’t really put much up to you, Cas, but I tried really. Look at the — shape of the clothes. It’s wide cause it’s supposed to be a trench coat but I figured the guy couldn’t understand what a trench coat is so he just widens it a little at the hem. And look, you got a tiny halo.” Dean smiles and his smile is contaminating when Cas gives that cute little dorky smile of his own.

Dean feels it is all worth it.

“Oh.” Cas blinks and takes the figure. Now that he looks at it, there before him is a figure of a man with its tiny head and large wings that looked like blades for him just now. “Thank you, Dean… this is… I have never received a gift in my life…”

“Hey, I gave you many things in the bunker, Cas! The mixtape for starters!”

“Yes, but… this is the first time I’ve received… I didn’t…”

Dean stares at Cas staring at the object. “Cas? It’s just a wax figure, man.”

Cas suddenly turns to him, face straight but his blue eyes were twinkling like Dean has never seen before. “You don’t understand, Dean. They don’t make angel figurines in this era… they don’t know about any religion, they’re all polytheistic, believing in many gods… an angel does not… they do not have one until the Word of God and Constantine comes to Rome. If it is as you said, you had this custom made, then it means they created a molding enough to create another one. Do not be surprised if by the following days, years… centuries even, there’ll be an ornament of the same shape and same wide trench coat angel hanging on every Christmas tree. Like the many other assortments in Saturnalia that survived and lived to our present, Dean.”

Cas gives him a glowing look. Dean can only stare up at him again with mouth wide open.

“You mean… I just made the first ever angel figure in the world?”

Cas nods and Dean’s brains just explodes but it was Cas’ bright blue eyes that has the hunter melting. He picks up the wax ringlet and offers his hand to the angel.

“And I thought this ring is the mind blower.”

Cas chuckles and offers his hand. Dean slips it on his finger, earning him another bright beam from Cas and a kiss that was better than breakfast.

“So we’re returning to the villa after all.” Dean says when Cas sits in front of him, still glowing at the objects he carefully places out of harms way. “The end of Saturnalia’s tomorrow, but we still have to wait two days before the 25th. Why are we in a hurry to go back?”

“We have to show respect to Prometheus. He is our host and we disappeared without leaving a note. I did send a message to him so he will not worry but I do think it’s about time we return.”

Dean groans. Everything about him is protesting of returning to Prometheus. The guy has some manipulative skills and Dean feels like an idiot for falling for it now. After last night, he never doubted Castiel's feelings for him again. Never doubted how it's only him that Cas ever needs. He still shakes his head to the amusement of the angel.

"Dean..."

“I don’t wanna. Let's just stay here and- and y'know? I can give you anything you want right here. We don't have to leave, Cas..." and through watching Sam and like he's been preparing for this all his life, give throws that puppy eyes. Castiel doesn't blink. He doesn't say a word. But it's all worth it when the angel takes his chin and pulls him in a slow, soft kiss. Dean moans on Cas' mouth because Castiel is biting his bottom lip, locking it with his damn mouth. Cas breaks in and molests his tongue, sucking him in hotly.

Dean returns the favor as he puts his hand at the lower back of the angel, pulling him in. From rough, then going slow. Smacking sounds of lips to lips never seemed so arousing. After a thorough care of those much abused red lips and mixed taste buds, Castiel pulls. He leans his forehead on Dean who's breathing heavily after him.

"Damn, I'm hard. Wanna do something about it?" Dean hasn't even finished saying when Castiel's large hands circles his cock and begins stroking lightly. The hunter curses, dropping his head on the angel's shoulder. "Ohh... baby..."

"We eventually have to return." Cas mutters, planting wet kisses on Dean's shoulder, neck, ear.

"I can have a better use of your mouth than talkin bout--ahh" Dean arches his abdomen up when Castiel sinks down his cock and swallows it whole. For a second, Dean's bliss is coming from the angel's wet mouth sucking everything from his hard dick. He and Castiel's been doing this a lot ever since coming here and Castiel already knows everything that can make Dean come.

Sucking roughly on the head of Dean's cock included.

"Damn... you're so good, Cas." Dean gasps, trying hard not to fuck in the angel's mouth. Cas has put one hand at the base of Dean's length, preventing him on coming while his other hand holds Dean's thigh for support. Dean can't make any comprehensible comment when Cas begins bobbing his head up and down, stroking his tongue along the side, sucking the dripping cum from Dean's slit and deept hroating him.

Wherever hell Cas learned that, Dean thinks it's the best thing Castiel has learned. He'll talk about that to Cas later. After he sucks Cas too and eats him. He will definitely eat that pink hole. Dean's mind goes wild at the thought; his arousal peeking and he can feel the raging beneath, thanks to Castiel's persistent sucking.

"Casss..." he groans, almost crying and Castiel stops. His blue eyes finds Dean, his lips still hungrily locked on Dean's dick. Dean stares at him, his eyes wide. Castiel with Dean's cock in his mouth will always be his hottest kink. Castiel pulls his head a little, leaving space but not letting Dean's hardened length out. The angel then lets go of his base and Dean thinks he'll pass out when his release finally comes out in a body shuddering outburst.

Castiel stays. Castiel takes everything. Castiel sinks his already spent cock in his mouth again, after swallowing everything. Dean tries not to think of how other angels must be saying how defiled Castiel has become. But he is Dean's. But he is also guilty. So when Castiel pulls up slowly, Dean's soft cock slipping from his mouth, Dean kisses him. Tastes himself in those hot lips.

Cas returning the kiss as hotly and eagerly like he knows Dean's discomfort removes the pang of guilt. Cas wants this. Cas wants to be with him. Dean sniffs at the kiss and Castiel is kissing his cheek on each side, then gently pushes Dean so he can have a look at him.

"What happened, Dean? Why are you... crying?" 

"Coz you're so fucking good." Dean laughs, which somewhat eased Castiel's expression but not totally gone.

"Dean, if you're so against returning-" the angel begins. A spark of hope appears in Dean's eyes.

"I definitely don’t. We can just bunk in here and wait for the whole firing up of this sun god and then we can go find another angel on your garrison who can return us. Preferably someone who wouldn’t murder you on first sight when they see you. That’s our only chance.”

“It is, but I don’t think I can convince any of them yet. Angels do not meddle with humans at this early stage of the world’s developing nations. We are prohibited to contact humans and most angels don’t think highly of your kind too. We have peace in heaven, we do not understand the raucous behavior of god’s creation.”

“In short the angel’s exclusive club,” Dean chuckles while Cas gives him a roll of eyes. “But anyway, we’ll find a way when we get there. Always crossing the bridge when we come to it. Make sure no one between us gets bitten in the ass. But this sun shining thing, will it be eye catching? What about those Romans who’ll see it? Is it inside the temple?”

“I think so. Prometheus is certain about it. And I’m sure most of the citizens are still hung over the festivities last night. I don’t think any of them would notice if anything extraordinary or supernatural happens after this day. They still blink up the sun like the way you do just on now, hating it. Forgetting they’re actually celebrating Saturn’s graces and the abundance of eternal light during winter solstice. They’re all… walking and crawling like a bad zombie movie when I went out to get you a change of clothing. I will not let you wear that tiny handkerchief, Dean.”

“What’s wrong with it?” Dean grins with cheeks bulging at everything he stuffed there. He remembered how Cas used his mojo two days ago to get them a real room in an insula and food to satisfy Dean’s hunger. But it wasn’t the food that stroke Dean’s memory last night when he found an actual wall separated him and Cas from prying eyes. His eyes danced as he remembers this and cheekily adds, “We both look fine with our ass for the entire community to see.”

“Too flashy. You do know how hot you look wearing that. Everyone’s practically dying before your eyes just to get you.”

“What can I say? You’re boyfriend’s just that _hot.”_ He winks at Cas.

“Yes.” Cas confirmed, but the problematic frown on his face has Dean laughing. Castiel glares at him and stands. Then he frowns. “Why are you still not dress? I hung your articles of clothing at the edge of the bed.”

“Don’t really feel like dressing without taking a proper bath.” Dean bit and finished the third drumstick and dove for another one.

“I can take care of that.” Cas said without preamble and was about to tap Dean’s forehead with his finger. Dean easily deflected and caught his wrist.

“What—no. I want proper water clean dude! Fresh and cool!”

Castiel sighed. “But there’s only a basin on the side enough to wipe your body. Unless you take my offer and we head to the public bath you’ve wanted since I last mentioned it.”

“Public bath.” Dean’s eyes shone quite suggestively which made Cas give him a wry smile.

“It’s really interesting how you get an erection after every hour.” His blue eyes fell like candle drop on Dean’s half-hardened cock. “It must be very good to be very young. You are full of energy, Dean. I am glad for your virility. It speaks much of your health.”

“Stop turning me off by talking too much, man. Whose fault do you think that is, walking around in a skirt?” Dean slowly pulled Cas’ hand still locked in his hand down to his hardness. Cas moved with him slowly till their face were on the same level.

_“It is not a skirt._ You’ll be wearing one again too._”_ Cas squinted at the man, his hand moving accordingly in gentle strokes. “And I am hardly the sole reason for your sexual arousal, Dean. Believe it or not, it is common among your age to be so active, but it’s never limited in the morning alone. Penises can become erect and then flaccid again several times in the course of the night. I’ve observed it in you, at least. You only notice it when you wake up.”

Dean grimaced. “You really wanna talk me out of morning make out session by explaining my erections?”

“I never said anything about ‘talking you out.” His strokes gradually paced. “Not on something I quite enjoy.”

“Yeah? So you admitting now you really watch me get evening woods too?”

“I watch over you. I see everything. Oh, I forgot you don’t like being watched.”

“Sounds sexy now.” Dean grinned again, both hands reaching to Cas’ shoulder, sliding up his neck. “I don’t seem like the man to mind you watching now, do I?”

“Really? What changed?”

“Your hand on my cock.”

“I don’t think it’s working though. And it was thriving just last night. What’s wrong?” Cas observed with a narrowed look between his hand. Dean was still half hard even with the ministrations of both hands.

“Cas, we talked about this.” Dean sighed. “Stop talking to my dick. You find anything talking down there, you tell me and I’ll—_offuck!”_

Dean lost the ability to speak as Cas bent down to suck him dry without another word. Dean arched his spine, both hands threading Castiel’s dark hair, gripping his head tight as the angel bobbed up and down on his lap. Cas was getting good with it, Dean thought, his eyes rolling back to his skull. The tenacity of the angel when it came to pleasure giving was a surprise even to Dean. Castiel was a wonder. Dean didn’t know where he learned it, but obviously his millennia of observing humanity, not to mention pizzamans have paid off. Maybe he’ll let Cas into his laptop folders. Damn, the thought surged his libido awake. Minutes passed and Dean threw his back on the mattress, cursing under his breath with his own hands raking his head as he came with a cry.

He saw Cas stand up quietly under his hooded lids to take the basin from the window side. Stopping beside Dean, the angel soaked the clean mantle he was holding and began cleaning Dean too. The man closed his eyes and breathed, feeling the cold press of damp cloth on his chest, down his abdomen, to his thigh. Damn him if he didn’t feel his groin twitching yet again.

_“No, Dean.”_ Cas sounded amused. “We have a job to finish. We can’t hole up here the entire winter solstice relieving you.”

“Yeah, Cas, maybe I should take care of you before we go back to the villa and face Prom dude?”

“No.” Cas simply kisses him and Dean nudges his nose under the angel’s chin.

“Dean.”

“You’re mine.” Dean inhales and licks Cas’ neck. “Don’t fucking leave me for anyone, Cas.”

“I will never do that.”

“I don’t wanna go back. You know fucking why. I don’t want anyone looking at you… Prometheus or not…Titan or whatever god… you’re mine, Cas.”

Angel understood flicker of eye and wraps arms around the jealous hunter. “This is you being possessive, Dean?”

“This me marking what’s mine.” Dean bites Cas neck and leaves it raw and red. “You’re mine, Cas. You hear?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t let anyone touch you.”

“I won’t”

“Don’t let anyone kiss you.”

“I won’t.”

“Don’t let anyone fuck you but me.”

“Yes, Dean.” Castiel pulls his waist and kisses Dean full in the mouth.

_Oh what the hell._

He dips down and buries himself once more to the heat of Cas pink lips.

* * *

The public bath is a sight to see. Large dome ceilings too tall to see above with many arching passages, stone floor, fountains. The walls are cool to their touch and the water a blue ink on the pool. There are many people in already as Cas and Dean made their way in, Castiel swiftly catching Dean’s wrist who excitedly looks around the large domain.

There are numerous square pools inside with pitter pattering people walking in their bare asses. Men, women, children running around chasing each other. Dean has gotten accustomed to the flash of skin that he never bothered removing his clothes at will. Cas takes his white tunic and presses a small towel on his hands. Dean throws it on his right shoulder. He and Cas become overwhelmed by their sheer number though and opted to sit at the edge of the nearest pool side far away from others.

Castiel waits for Dean to sit, putting his legs wide. The angel takes the towel on his shoulder and drops it casually on Dean’s limp dick before letting half his body sink on the pool. He turns up to Dean who’s just eyeing everything with green eyes shining.

“Wow…” Dean sighs with eyes wide and blinking. “Just _wow…_ and I thought public bath house in Japan is incredible.”

“You’ve never been to Japan, Dean. You don’t like flying.” Cas plops both arms on the edge of the pool with Dean’s thigh on his right.

“Thanks, smartass. You don’t need to go to Japan to know something factual like that. I do my research seriously.”

“Why would you want to research something about Japan’s bath house?” Cas tilts his head again.

Dean rolls his eyes and looks the angel with a smirk. “Just.”

Cas sighs and shakes his head when he understands. “You want me to wash you, Dean?”

“And get hard in the middle of public eye? Hell yeah!” Dean quickly scrambles down the water till he crowds on Castiel. He presses their chest together. Grinning as he pushes Cas back at the wall of the pool, Dean puts both hands on either side of the angel who blinking at him.

“I said I’ll wash you, Dean.”

“Sure.” Dean closes in, arms wrapping around Cas waist. “After we get dirty, right?”

Cas’ eyes wrinkles into a smile. “I’d like that.”

A minute of hot kissing and Dean clambering on Cas’ waist making the most exotic moans as Cas’ hard cock presses inside his still flexed rim has the angel becoming aware of his surroundings. Dean’s been calling his name when he notices Cas inattention.

“Stop getting distracted when you’re fucking me.” Dean murmurs in the angel’s ear before he licks it. Cas turns his head and buries his face on Dean’s neck, taking his smell and sighing quite vexed. Dean presses his cheeks and lets his own stubble prickle the angel’s smooth white skin.

“Cas, what’s wrong?”

Cas shoots a look around. Dean watches the angel glare to no one in particular. He realizes then that there’s a man, two, three actually staring at them, watching them.

Anger seeps into Dean and he too glares. This isn’t fucking payperview. This isn’t a fucking porn! Cas must’ve felt the change in his mood and pulls him close, still hard inside him. But instead of stopping, Dean kisses Cas’ mouth full and moves in fucking abandon. Cas hisses and quickens the pacing of his thrusts till he is solidly pounding on Dean. Then Cas pulls on Dean’s head, pressing the man’s face against his neck as if not wanting anyone to see his beautiful face when he comes.

Dean comes and his moan is so distracting and arousing, Cas has to kiss him through his orgasm. Dean feels overly fucked and that was fine as he breathes when Cas lets him go. He slumps on Cas’ chest, feeling the angel still rolling his hips as he turns Dean around to the wall, covering him with his body. Dean drops his head on Cas and he breathes like he has run a marathon.

_He loves it. He loves this._

“I want to get out of here, Dean.” He hears Cas murmur on his ears after a few moments.

“Hmmm?” Dean can swear Cas is asking for another pounding. “Why?”

“I don’t like it. These people… they’re staring at us… at you like you’re a piece of meat they’d like to have for dinner. I don’t like how everyone looks at you the moment we stepped in the ancient society. I am not sure if you had noticed, but eyes follow you everywhere… it’s the reason I always want to stand beside you. There are many of them. _Eyes. Hungry eyes._ They all feasts on us but mostly Dean because even by Roman standards, you are the most beautiful man anyone could have ever laid eyes on. Even in Ancient Rome standards. Even in heavenly standards, Dean.”

Dean smiles when he pulls up to look at his baby’s blue eyes.

“You make me blush, Cas. I’m not that desirable.”

“Yes, you are, Dean. Otherwise… how else do you think you were able to snatch one of the grumpiest angels of his garrison?”

Dean tinkles a laugh and embraces Cas close, head burying on the angel’s shoulder.

“Love you like this, Cas. Love when you’re being so damn honest with me.”

Cas is about to retort on that when Dean feels the angel tense and turn behind him. His grip on Dean’s back is tight and the hunter looks up to find what’s making the angel so angry under his arms. He sees a golden-haired man standing just a foot before them on the pool, watching them with eager eyes. Dean’s about to snarl when Cas pulls him down and in quick movements, has Dean standing behind him.

“Cas!” Dean warns, eyes falling on the human who doesn’t strike him as dangerous. Cas gives him a cold look anyway.

“What do you want?”

The golden-haired Roman is giving Castiel a hesitant look, his bare chest wet as his locks. Dean tries to move beside Cas but the angel has planted a secure hand on his hip. When Castiel gives the stranger another levelled stare, did the man speak breathlessly.

“Won’t you sell your slave to me? For any price?”

Castiel looks up sharply. Dean blinks. “What did you say?”

“Your servant… that man?” the Roman looked almost frantic, while Dean is thinking of many ways to feel insulted at being thought of as a ‘slave’. Cas doesn’t budge in front of him. “I’ll buy him from you—at any price!”

It would be quite easy to let Cas grab the man around the neck and let him dangle in the air for a while before throwing him across the fountain. It would also be quite to both Cas and Dean’s satisfaction to rip the man’s eyes out which had the audacity to leer at Dean in Castiel’s presence.

But the angel didn’t. Instead, Cas gives the man one deathly look before stepping closer. The Roman must’ve felt the live wire Cas’ body has become and steps back in fear. Cas doesn’t get any closer, Dean has placed a hand on his shoulder. But he is still close enough to be heard when he says to the Roman in a biting whisper—

_“Bite your tongue now or I’ll make you swallow that.”_

The golden-haired man gapes, then slinks and wades his way out of the water, legs shaking. Dean mumbles something about being asses when he feels Cas pushing off the edge of the pool.

“Let’s go.”

“Huh? We haven’t even washed properly—just _sex—”_

“I don’t like public baths after all.”

Castiel clasps him by the shoulder and helps him to his feet. The angel then begins dragging him towards the basket where they left their clothes, changed quickly and shoots out of the public bath house on the same way they used. Castiel is pulling him out of the warm domus onto the awaiting cold of the morning. Dean shivers. He hasn’t been dried properly and he begins to sniff when he feels Cas touch on his neck. His discomfort easily disappears and he smiles at the angel who wraps a hand around his waist.

Dean wraps his arm around his shoulder.

They dragg their feet on the soiled ground, not stopping till they were out of the corner of the street and finds abundance of people still celebrating in the middle of the day. The celebration is pretty much alive even in the daylight.

Cas continued tugging Dean to the end of the street. After almost a long time of not talking, Dean is the one who tugged Cas back. The angel turned a look at him. Dean shake his head and pulls Cas instead. Tents after tents, tables after tables and bodies after bodies still breathing on the floor later, and the two finally found the privacy they were seeking.

In the arms of the trees at the back of a large red bricked building shadowing everything on sight. Dean pull Cas under one of the large trees and then put his hands on his hips.

“Alright, Cas, so there’s a guy who thinks I’m a slave? So what? And there were plenty of people watching us—it’s a pubic sex house, Cas. What’s wrong with being watched?” Dean realizes it sounded weird when said like that but he wouldn’t exactly say he didn’t enjoy being watched. He had a thing or two for threesomes in his experience and it wasn’t bad. Not bad at all.

“It wasn’t just anyone.” Cas muttered with a flash of something sharp in the blue, “He’s been watching you for a long time. I don’t want him seeing the side of you… no. They’ve all been looking at you that way… even that demigod. It makes me not want to go back to the villa after all.”

Dean blinks at the mention of the half demi-god who can suck his throat dry too.

“You mean Bacchus?”

Castiel looks up with a straight face. “Yes, Bacchus. Now stop saying his name. I have a mind to retaliate.”

“You’re really jealous?” Dean grins wide again.

“I do not consider envy to be something I possess.” Cas admitted, frowning heavily, “But at the same time I do not tolerate you being… in the charge of another but me.”

Dean tackles Cas without warning, pushing him backwards till the angel’s back hit the tree trunk with a loud _oof_. Dean presses their bodies together, the heat of recent activity burning alive on him once again. He kisses Castiel deep and hard, he breathes the angel’s breath and nips down his neck. Castiel only hisses at the sudden assault but let him. Dean push their hips together, securing that Castiel too was hard. He is. Cas being overly jealous is the last thing Dean needed to want to rip their clothes to pieces. Hands on Castiel’s shoulder, Dean easily swipes the tunic holding the dress up, sliding it down his arm. Dean growls when he looked down at the faltering covers, exposing half the body of the angel he revers. Castiel’s nipples were rock hard, a drop of sweat glides at the line in the middle of his chest. Dean wastes no time, his mouth capturing Cas’ again, drawing his tongue out before sliding lower. His hands are on the work too, thumbing each nipple and pressing harder that elicited a cry never heard of from Cas. And Dean makes it his life’s mission to hear more.

It was the dress that got him all horny from the beginning, he confesses, and thankful once again how easy it was to be removed, how utterly unbidden it was to touch anywhere because of no given restrictions.

He knew why the Romans couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Could understand why he was at Cas the moment he got the chance. His displayed tasty neck, collarbone, firm shoulders, Cas fucking jaw Dean had no trouble grazing with his teeth— everything about Cas was too delectable not to be taken. And he hasn’t even been paying attention to what Cas has to offer below. It reminded him. He jerked a knew between Cas’ legs, feeling the angel’s hefty limb. Cas cried out in surprise and Dean kissed him again. Deep. Searing. Hot. Like ravishing him wasn’t good enough, will never be enough. Like this is their first time all over again.

_“Dean…” _Cas’ grunts as Dean run his tongue on his throat worked wonders on the hunter. Heat of their skin rushed in his blood as he ran his palms on each side of the angel’s waist. He tugs his knees to keep teasing the angel’s hard cock. Cas unconsciously began sliding down, rolling his hips to feel more, but Dean pressed him back on the tree, tongue and tongue slipping on both sides, confident and willing. But the built up was gaining its limit and Dean slid his left hand down to the hem of Cas’ tunic. He pushed it upward and wrapped his palm on Castiel’s bulged.

_Fuck, it was hot._

Cas presses his back on the tree, head lolling sideways with small whimpers Dean loved to hear. He strokes the length, pleased with the throbbing and wetness of precum sliding in his hand. Dean couldn’t believe this was happening, he couldn’t get his head on it as he pulled away and looked down. Cas body was divine at how it wildly responds to all his touches and the hunter wondered if it has something to do with Castiel being an angel. Being in a vessel that might possibly be craving human touch after such a long time. But humans are nothing to this, not even close. No one’s capable of topping the sound coming from Cas now.

Dean pumps Cas’ cock in abandon, eyes darting from the crack of the head releasing precum back to Castiel’s pleasured face. Dean wouldn’t blame Cas for feeling protective of Dean just now. He will kill anyone who’d draw this kind of expression from his angel. Gritting his teeth at the prospect of anyone else taking Cas, he madly stroked the angel’s twitching length. The heat in between his palms drove him to want to taste, to feel—and found himself kneeling on both legs—filling his mouth with the pure breadth of the Castiel’s member in ecstasy.

“Dean!” Cas cries, both hands landing on the man’s hair and clawing on his scalp. Dean hastened his greedy swallows, turned on by the mere idea that he was taking Cas. One hand reached to support his aching jaw as he drew out, but Cas went after him in one single bucking and cried his name again. Who could fucking resist that? So, hands cupping Castiel’s ass, Dean stretched his neck to accommodate the pristine cock that wanted to stay. Cas pulled his head deeper, nearly embracing him as he bends down, breaths catching as he moved his hips.

Dean lets him. Cas may not even know what he was doing but Dean wanted it to. Castiel fucking in his mouth was one of those secrets he had kept at the back of his mind for its impossibility. Yet here, he was filled with Cas. Just fucking Castiel. Dean feels his own dick trembled at the thought and buried his nose further down Castiel’s mane. The sounds Cas could make, damn. Dean didn’t exhaust till Cas could make it. Tension built in his body and Dean knew he was close. He moved his faster, Cas’ hand guiding him, his knees giving away but Dean got him.

“_Dean!_”

His name was the only thing Cas could say, not knowing what was happening as pleasure strike like lightning which added to Dean’s hardness. Every time Cas says his name sent a throbbing ache on his neglected groin. But with Cas too near, Dean took care of his own trouble, noting the number of ways Cas can payback. He pumped his own erection till Cas was practically melting above him. One frantic cry from Cas and Dean braced his aching jaw. He didn’t have to withdraw this time, wanting to take everything that came out from Castiel. It poured so heavenly, hot and sticky inside his mouth. Dean drank all of him while he continued his own ministration with his own cock, pumping through Cas’ orgasm till he too groaned and released a menacing squirt covering Castiel’s legs.

Only when Dean kisses the head of Castiel’s softening cock did the angel fall on his knees in front of him. Blue and green met, glazed over and full of relinquished meaning. Castiel looked too soft, his white skin glowing in the night, his blue eyes sparkling like the ocean under the sunlight. He was beautiful. Dean was the first to reach out, cupping Cas’ wet cheeks from all the sweat, running his thumb on the angel’s plush bottom lip. Dean kissed him, softly this time.

Cas wounded a hand around him. It was lax and tingly, compared to the rush of their beginning. Dean let it last, knowing that he will be hungry for the angel again, and in no time. Now that the opening has been breached, now that they’ve given their consent, Dean sees no reason not to take him every day.

“Cas, _Io Saturnalia.”_

***

Prometheus’ eyes linger on Castiel’s neck where Dean is proud to note the red mark on the angel’s white skin. He didn’t just suckle on that out of enthusiasm. He stood beside Cas with puffed chest, smirking silently while Cas shoots him glowering looks. Dean gives him a wink and flirtatiously shoves his shoulder on the angel’s. It is impossible to wipe the grin off his face and Castiel can only shake his head.

Dean stands straight and sees Prometheus eyes fall darkly on him.

“So…” the Titan begins with clenched teeth. “I was worried that something happened when you suddenly disappeared last night…”

“Something certainly did.” Dean says with a look of affirmation. Castiel nods.

“Dean disappeared. I had to look for him.”

“I didn’t disappear… was just finding a place to hang out, have fun…”

“That certainly was too much fun.” Cas growls and Dean presses his grin away. Cas gives him an expiring look before turning back to their host. “I apologize for worrying you and going without notice. I had to make sure Dean is safe.”

“Which you did. I am glad to see that nothing untoward has happened to your human charge.” The way he looks at Dean makes the hunter fully believe the Titan can only wish for the opposite. “The night street is generally dangerous during Saturnalia what with the absence of the court and authority figures. You could have been taken out of your will and woke up a slave if you are not careful.”

The gleam in the Titan’s eyes makes Dean narrow his eyes.

“I can take care of myself.” He says but Prometheus ignores him.

“I am glad you have returned, Castiel. These last few nights of festivities are lacking without you. But come, I must not dwell on the lost but on the gain. Castiel, I am glad you have returned to me.”

Dean raises both eyebrows. Prometheus _knows. He fucking knows that Cas now unquestionably belongs to Dean but he still does not show any backing out. _Dean wants to rip him apart. Cas settles a hand on his shoulder when he attempts to move forward with daggers in his eyes. Castiel feels Dean’s boiling anger but only quietly gives the Titan a silent look.

“Thank you, Prometheus.”

The Titan gives the fondest smile to the angel. Castiel keeps Dean in under his grip.

“Don’t get the wrong ideas, we came back cause the promise day is coming, Prom.” Dean injects, making sure the hardness in his eyes is read by the Titan. Prometheus darkly moves his eyes to Dean’s direction, before looking back at Castiel.

“About that… I’m sure you’ll understand why it had to take this long. The Fire will reappear but simply snatching it from the temple where most of the important political figure will appear, from the Emperor himself to the High Priest of the Pontifex… we need to be careful. That’s why I am glad to see you back, Castiel. We can talk about this in detail some time, when you do not look too preoccupied.” He glares at Dean.

“Okay.” Cas nods and tries not to smile because Dean had said so. Prometheus is still smiling at the angel though, but there’s a curl on the corner of his lips not missed by Dean when their eyes met. Castiel clears his throat. “I apologize for imposing again, Prometheus.”

“Of course. You can take a rest. I will have Bacchus prepare everything for tomorrow. Tonight’s celebration will be on a neighboring villa, Castiel. And we are invited in person. Can you come with me?”

“Of course, as long as Dean is going too.”

Prometheus’ lips thinned further.

“Of course. Io Saturnalia.”

“Ho ho to you too.” Dean mutters as Castiel sighs and motions Dean to walk with him out of the hall. Dean lingers for a moment, giving Prometheus one of his glares most people freeze into. But then this isn’t any fucking human but a Titan who supposedly battles for earth a long time ago.

“Ho, ho, Dean?” Cas gives him a side look as they walk.

“Didn’t you know, Cas? I figured out how they created Santa Claus.”

“Oh? And you’re not upset about it?”

“Nothing’s upsetting me anymore than staying in this stinking place.” Dean says with aspiration. “and nothing more with another celebration at hand.”

“It’s still Saturnalia, Dean.”

“Yeah, so you’re not leaving my side tonight, y’hear?”

“Of course.”

Dean doesn’t care if he headbutts with Prometheus soon because of Cas. Huh. The Titan still wants to go after Cas… he doesn’t care what Cas wanted and this above all has Dean determinedly killing Prometheus in his head.

He’ll clash with Prometheus soon, he knows it.

* * *

Hours later, Dean shuts the door close again while Cas stands behind him with an exasperated look. It was already night time when the two of them were called in attention for the supposed party three hills from where this villa in the Capitoline Hill stood. Cas waits patiently for Dean to get his mind cleared and only taps his feet in single beat on the floor. Dean can hear him, but he really doesn’t want them to leave the room for another party where the angel can be taken advantage of.

“We don’t have to go, Dean.” Cas sighs for the enth time.

“Course we don’t. But we have to, don’t we?”

“Not if you don’t want to.”

Dean groans and turns around to his boyfriend with overprotectiveness seeping on his every action.

“He’s basically asking you for a date and we’re just saying yes?”

“It isn’t a date and you know it.”

“Yeah, and before you know it, he’s kissing you all over the place! Come on, Cas, you know he wants to fuck you.”

“Prometheus kiss doesn’t mean anything. It does not make my body respond the same with yours.”

“Doesn’t mean he could kiss you.” The human grumbles. Castiel heaves a long, suffering sigh, before looking pointedly at the hunter.

“Fine. If I break every single bone he has in his body if he attempts it, will you be happy?”

“Not as happy if I am to do it.”

“And if he retaliates and hurts you, I will be breaking every single bone in his body anyway, so why take the risk of getting hurt first?”

Dean smiles. He rounds on Cas and circles his hand around the angel’s waist.

“Yeah, but he doesn’t make your body respond the same with mine? Like how? Gotta tell me how I make that happen you know.”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

“I really don’t. Why don’tya show me again, angel?”

Castiel bites his lower lip and scowls at Dean. “Keep calling me angel and I’m going to make you cry till you can only say my name.”

A tug beneath Dean’s groin has the hunter pulling Castiel’s hips against him.

“Yeah? Sounds like a threat. Wanna deliver?”

Castiel takes Dean by the waist and pulls him up the wall.

“He does not make me want to do this, Dean. You’re the only one who can make me lose it.”

“That right?” Dean smirks, “This looks normal to me. You always pin me on the wall when you’re in a bad mood, Cas.”

“I never scare you.”

“Hell, makes me wanna get fucked by you every time.”

Castiel hisses and crashes his lips with the hunter.

* * *

They came out of the villa with Prometheus’ carriage awaiting them. Dean doesn’t move from the ground when the door opens and the Titan invitingly opens it for Castiel alone.

Cas, sensing his hesitation, promptly turns to Prometheus and gives him an apologetic smile. In the end the angel tells Prometheus that they shall follow promptly, pointing at the space where he knew the private celebration would be. Prometheus sighs and shakes his head but when Dean’s happy like that, Cas doesn’t mind getting a disappointed look from anyone.

“Why are you walking with me then?” Dean wiggles his eyebrows at the angel walking beside him as they made their way to the throng of people in the middle of all the lights, celebrating the last days of Saturnalia.

“I don’t think I should leave you, after all. A flirt master like you.”

Dean smirks playfully and turns to him, elbow brushing with Cas.

“Yeah? What changed your mind, sunshine?”

“For starters, I don’t know if you can handle the number of people already looking at you here at this point. And at your state, it’ll only turn damaging. You are plenty attractive, Dean.”

“Look who’s flirting now.” Dean beams. He sees people around him kissing and kissing. Fuckfestival is on again and Cas is walking with him. Where they are going doesn’t seem that important at all. He entwines his hand on the angels.

“You look like you want me, Cas.”

“Of course, Dean.”

“Come on, Cas. I could kiss you, y’know.”

Cas blinks at him in mock surprise. “You want me, Dean?”

“Why wouldn’t I want you? Cas, you’re like… you’re the best thing that happened to me. Of course, I fucking want you!” he licks his lips as he stares at the angel’s lips. So distracting.

Castiel smiles. “Did Bacchus try to seduce you with his wine again?”

“Cas, you know I’m sober.”

“Well, I still want you either way.”

“And you’re telling me you want me for your…?” the hunter smiles suggestively. Cas presses a smile and Dean nudges his head on his check.

“Aww, Cas. I don’t understand why we need to go to some dumb party when we can go somewhere where a bed or table can do.”

“You are incorrigible, Dean.”

They walked shoulder to shoulder in silence as they paved their way in the heap of people they needed to pass to get to the street of the next hill. Dean opens his eyes, drinking everything in. He’s been here almost a week and still things are never the same in his eyes. This was just like those in old pictures depicting ancient society, with many people in different colors of tunics, others barely covered, walking around the shadow of stone buildings covering the sky. Stonework homes towered before him, buildings of multistory brick and masonry apartment blocks with doors in every two feet where Romans come in and out in numbers. There were many additional floors above each masonry made of woods that rose from three to five complex to accommodate the citizens. Something like home. Dean scans the vicinity with some interest. There was no getting used to the blatant hookups around, even the residence of the apartment on different floors were doing kinky things in their balcony that made Dean feel like he was some peeping tom. It made him chuckle feeling ridiculous. Hell, he didn’t even need to try with only torn blankets and rags hanging on doors to keep apartments’ privacy. Averting his eyes, he checked the surrounding, making sure his shoulder would not lost contact with Cas. The market as full of tents and tables selling bottles and amphorae, jars made of clay. Fruits stalls were abundant as well and Dean could swear he smelled freshly baked bread and crust. There were also vastly shaped ornaments on other stalls in shape of the moon, stars and sun. Candles were a top box like they matter. From a distant, Dean could see two gigantic pillars being set up in the middle of the street.

He tugs on Cas’ arm and pointed at it.

“The Pantheon.” Cas said quietly as they sidled with the rest of the non- copulating group they found around the corner. “Temple of all gods. They’ve only begun the construction early this year… It would not be finished till 126 AD.”

Dean nods with few background knowledge that he remembers about the temple. Sneakily, he pulled Cas close, angel shoulder on his chest, whispering on his ear something he thought the Romans shouldn’t find amusing as he did.

“Will anyone see me if I vandalize that and write my name on it? Then go back and visit when we get back home?”

Cas gave him a narrowed look. Dean smiled cheekily. _“Seize the day.”_

“The Pantheon will be under many constructions and destructions.” Castiel cleared his throat in an attempt to hide his smile, “I am not sure if it pays to be caught and put into a slave market just to put your name on an old ruin.”

Dean’s face fell. “Slave market?”

Castiel blinked and paused at him. They stopped in the middle of the road and people pass them by like water flowing unstoppably.

“Yes, Dean. There are many around you.”

Dean looked around, expecting to see half beaten men or women or children wearing rags kissing their master’s feet but there was none. Everyone walked in celebration with drinks and food in their hands. He shook his head and turned back at the angel.

“Where? Are they locked up during festivals or something?”

“No, Dean. There are _everywhere. _Observe the people wearing triangular red caps? That’s the liberty cap. They call it here the _pileus._ I forgot… I thought you knew about the red pileus being another form of dress they applied to this Santa Claus. But slaves as you know are free to roam the street for a week long in this holiday. Because it is Saturnalia. This is one of the highlights of celebrating the popular festival in all Ancient Rome.”

Dean raised his eyes again and sure enough, saw dozens of people walking the street with everyone else, donning the red, soft cap on their heads. He thought at first it was a decoration for the festival and didn’t pay it attention. Now that he looked closely, there were really a great number flocking the street. Dean frowned a little, the suddenly took Cas by the arm. He marshalled the angel on a corner where a spot was left behind between stalls. Cas surveys him curiously, head tilting.

“Nothing we can do, Dean.” Cas shook his head, “It’s the first century. Everyone in here is already dead. This holiday is popular because it’s in this whole week where all courts in Rome are closed. Crimes are allowed like gambling, looting, robbery, even nonconsensual acts. They can pillage cities and not get caught. Slaves are free to trade places with their Masters in a banquet. They celebrate loosening of moral restrictions. You must not think the people here all live like this. They are under Octavian’s rule and the Courts do execute the law. But Saturnalia happens.”

Dean’s voice falters. Cas’ concern for him was too evident, it was giving him butterflies for some reason. No one has given him that much concern, as far as he could tell except his brother. But Cas had always been like a brother to him, always beside him, watching him. Guarding him with his life. Why was his dick twitching just now, dammit?

Before either could speak again, screams and shouts filled the night air followed by people running away from the epicenter of the commotion. Castiel and Dean both looked across the street where they saw a group of three drunk Roman soldiers harassing a young woman in blue stolla with a pileus on her head. The tallest of the soldier was pulling her wrist forcibly while the other two reached for her waist. Dean reacted at once—but Cas held him back with one grip on his shoulder.

_“Dammit, Cas!” _Dean spun around. He didn’t care if these people were way dead before his time. Didn’t care if they were slaves or not. He was there and he will do something. “Don’t tell me to stay put because I won’t—”

“Yes, you will.” Castiel said but much to Dean’s chagrin was the angel leaping to his feet and was in front of the tallest of the three men in one sweep—the tip of finger raised as he knocked him out. As the giant collapsed on the floor, two more men sprung behind the angel but Cas had them both locked on each of his palms, raising his arms lightly as he glared, his blue eyes full of wrath it shone with grace.

Dean gasped together with those who braved enough to watch when Castiel pivoted and threw the men on either side of the street like a mad whirlwind. The men’s cries were short as they hit stone pillars. Castiel stomped his feet on the ground it felt like it cracked just to steady himself, the cloak rustling behind him magnificently, exposing his bare shoulders and front. Cas looked up, glaring, the air cracking behind him. With lips crunched, jaw line squared, eyes bluest and on fire when it reflected the torches.

The Angel of the Lord really looked pissed off.

Dean stared at Cas with mouth hanging open.

Because of all the fuckedup things he saw today, men and women naked and lost in the world of depravity, Cas practically smiting Roman soldiers was the only thing that seize something in Dean that made him squirm painfully. A tug on his lower region made the hunter hiss and cursed himself repeatedly.

_He’s always been a sucker for badass._

_And Cas?_

Soldiers just surrounded him and Dean just knew the angel was about to go all out.

_Such badass!_

It was over before Dean could even step in and Cas found his friend staring at him open mouthed when he was done. He wanted Dean to understand he didn’t need to get involve in the affairs of ancient times. He wanted Dean to realize he was there to answer his prayers. Like how Dean was there for him when he needed someone the most. But most of all, he just wanted Dean safe. The angel gave a slight pause, before his eyes fell on the lady on the ground that had been harassed, staring at him with the same thunderstruck expression and Cas wondered if she was hurt.

“Are you okay?” he asked. The woman shrunk on the floor looking frightened.

Cas blinked and pressed his lips thin. He raised his eyes slowly and found a crowd of people staring at him in full awe and horror. Fear. It was natural for them to fear what they don’t understand. Cas glanced around. The whole place supposed to be filled with celebration was eerily silent. Eyes bore heavily on him. It made him uncomfortable to be the middle of a spectacle.

Before Cas could take another step, Dean was in front of him. The hunter shoved himself on Cas space, fussing on his pallium as he pulled the cloak down to hide the angel’s chest and shoulder, then began arranging its collar, basically just to hide Cas from prying eyes. Dean looked frantic, but his hands were steady as he put them around Cas’ shoulder and began ushering him away from the center of attention. It took them only a full thirty second to leave everything behind, joined the crowd and was gone.

“Too much?” Cas asked drily.

“A little too much, yeah.” Dean muttered in his ear, “Let’s get out of here.”

The hunter and angel left the scene in quick strides. Dean’s hold on him was firm as the hunter went on—

“Cas, what did I say about keeping low profile with your power?”

“That I must not reveal my true identity.” Cas recited, understanding Dean’s worry as the hunter’s hand around his back. Dean had explained it before, why he always tells him not to use his power in front of many people. “It’s alright, Dean. They don’t have cameras here to prove what I am.”

“Not the point, Cas. Stop being reckless and drawing attention to yourself. These are friggin Romans!”

“They are still and only human. I am an angel.”

“Point miss again, buddy. I don’t want you using your mojor around again, unless absolutely necessary, okay? _And not in front of many people!”_

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Cas felt Dean’s sincere worry and clasped his shoulder firmly and protectively around him as they walked with the bustling crowd. “But I never approve of human violence on others. Besides, had I done that, you would have gotten involve and the last thing I need is to see you hurt. I had to do something to make sure that doesn’t happen.”

“Yeah, and the last thing I need? These people taking you prisoner, Cas and making you into some kind of freak they don’t understand. So no more circus tricks—you stay low.”

“I’m more than capable to handle Romans.” Cas glanced at him as did Dean, “But you getting hurt is one thing I could never forgive myself again.”

The lingering look he gave the hunter surprisingly was answered with the same intensity.

“I know that, Cas. Geez, _I know._ You think I didn’t know that’s become your objective much more than finding the fire since we came here? I’m sorry for distracting you, but I’m a hunter too, Cas. I can take care of myself—I can even take care of you if you let me— so just… stop acting like you’re my own personal terminator, alright? You just stay as the huggy bear I like.”

Cas looked contemplative for a moment. “Okay. Whatever you want, Dean. Do you want to take me here now? You look like you want to.”

Dean bursts out laughing.

“Stop it, Cas, we’re not joining the sex parade.” Dean laughed but with a nervous tremor only Castiel was able to recognize and it confused him further. Before he could speak again however, Cas suddenly looked behind him, feeling a none threatening presence watching him. Dean saw him distracted and the two turned to find a woman standing just behind them. The two blinked at each other then back at her. They recognize her with her white stolla and palla and the addition of the triangular pileus on top of her head.

It was the slave Cas saved not long ago.

“Forgive me, master.” She begins tentatively, her hands clasped together near her stomach. She looked uncertain behind dark eyes, her curly hair neatly tucked behind one ear. “I forgot my manners after your kindness and had been unable to express my gratitude for your aid. I apologize for my shortcoming.” She bowed, earning a look of surprise from both Cas and Dean.

“You don’t have to,” Dean quickly said while Cas just stared, “he was happy to help, and it’s a one-time wonder. It’s Saturnalia… uh… keep it as a present.”

She ogled at Dean with her lips parted open. Dean squirmed beside Cas who was still watching the woman before shaking his head.

“We accept the gratitude.” Cas found himself saying. “I hope it doesn’t happen again.”

She nodded with a sigh of relief as she put both hands down. “It cannot be helped, but I am blessed to have crossed paths with two benevolent gentlemen. I apologize for the lateness, but I had to go back to inform my masters of my fortune. I spoke to them about your kindness and they gladly offered their banquet to your presence. I am glad to have found you amidst the celebration. My masters would like to extend their gratitude to the two of you, if you would be willing to return with me in the house.”

Cas tilted his head, only to feel the pressure of Dean’s hand on his shoulder again. Cas looked up inquiringly and saw Dean’s handsome features contorted with brows furrowed. To Cas’ confusion, Dean pulled him closer to his shoulder, and then angled their body so that the angel was partly hidden out of her sight. Dean’s body blocking the view.

“Why would you wanna invite a couple of strangers in your house all of a sudden?” Dean said quietly but Cas could hear the creeping suspicion in the hunter’s voice. The woman’s smile slightly faltered.

“I would like to show gratitude to my saviors.”

“What did you tell your masters, exactly?”

“I… I told them what happened… about him…”

Cas knew Dean was squeezing him and it made him frown. He could feel the man tensing beside him for some reason but his suspicion was something Cas could understand. Dean was never one to trust strangers quickly. It visibly reminded the angel of their first meeting and Dean’s welcoming blade in his heart.

“Dean.”

“Must be quite a story to tell them about my friend going gladiator, huh?”

“Umm… I don’t know…” she blinks at him looking confuse. Dean realizes he must’ve gone far and hisses an apology. Castiel taps his shoulder.

“Dean, it’s alright, but we can’t stay out here too long. We better go.” Cas tugs on his arms and starts walking but Dean just feels so guilty as he looks back at the lady.

“Uh, sorry. Didn’t mean to sound like a douche… so what’s your name?”

“Krisel, master.” She beckons a little lower, making Dean lean to her. He doesn’t feel Cas behind him and he means to catch up to him but first, a lady in distress must never be left on her own.

“Hey, don’t call me master. It’s Saturnalia, ain’t it? You’re supposed to be _freed.”_

Dean sees something flash behind the woman’s eyes. “Saturnalia fools no one, my lord.”

“Uhh…” Dean feels a prickle at the back of his neck, making him uncomfortable for all sorts of reason but why would he feel threaten just because she has realized the truth behind the whole week’s joke. Are all the slaves like that? He sees the woman’s gentle features disappear completely.

“Hey, are you okay—”

Before he could finish his statement, something hard cracked at the base of his skull and Dean knows no more.

* * *

There's this dark forbidding feeling. Cas' warmth is nowhere.

Dean feels a rough pull on his scalp and he yells in pain but his mouth is gagged and only ends up with tears in his eyes. He hisses as he gets drag on his shoulders, his knees brushing on the stone floor. He blinks his eyes but couldn’t see anything from the cloth covering his eyes. He hears loud buzz of people cheering and wonders if he has finally end up in a Colosseum after all.

_Does he have to fight to death?_

Someone's behind him. Dean never likes anyone behind him except if it's Cas. Men tend to get ideas when behind him and it's sickening. But then he gets manhandled towards a flat surface, standing erect amidst loud cheers and Dean gulps nervously, head turning left and right, trying to decipher whether an attack is coming and thinking how he can fight with both arms tied behind him. He is barely wearing anything except the modest loin cloth covering his groin—how can he fight that way? He tries to wriggle from his bonds but it is useless. What kind of fight is this, anyway?

Just then the mantle in his eyes is pulled and Dean blinks into the bright lights. It is to his horror when after several more blinks, he finds himself in the middle of a huge crowd, standing in a wooden stage surrounded by many Romans all watching him with gleams in their eyes, mouths open with raised hands and calling out amounts.

Dean grist his teeth as he looks just below him and sees more of them all eyeing him like they are going to devour him. Dean looks beside him when a man stands on his corner, then without a word, tugs on the only thing hiding the remaining skin in Dean’s—and exposes his cock.

The audience goes wild. Dean tries to calm himself as he realized the fucked-up situation, he has landed himself in.

_Slave traders. He ended up as a fucking slave._


	15. What Fools these Mortals Be

** **

**Tanta Stultitit Mortalum Est**

* * *

Chaos ensues next as Dean’s hunter instinct kicks in and he begins to wildly kick everyone near him off the stage and shoves anyone who attempts to reach him squarely with his shoulders. There are enraged cries and screams as the hunter headbutts people on the chin and face, slams his legs in their middle and practically throws his body to anyone approaching within his line of sight. Blood surges through his body to attack, his mode to kill at its height, and all he can see is red. It was the same feeling of being trapped and surrounded by dozens of zombies in an unexpected Apocalypse where one thing is in his mind, the one pure line of thinking that will always resurface when he finds himself in a pinch.

_Survive!_

For Sam. For Cas.

Dean growls when he turns and still see Romans in their dirty tunic climb the stairs of the wooden stage. He eyes them dangerously, daring them to take another step for even without his hands’ mobility, Dean can still cause spill of blood as everyone can see on the floor. No one dared to step closer because Dean knows he is a beast when his instinct to kill is on. They can feel it. He isn’t just a human, he’s a fucking hunter and they can feel it. Dean sees pass these Roman to the crowd who has backed away from the stage, all with horror and thunderstruck expressions and Dean just knows he is no longer buyable. Who would want a nonpliant slave anyway who can slit their necks in their sleep?

In the middle of all this is Dean silently praying for Cas to come. He knows he cannot actually say the words, but knows from any distance that Cas can hear him. _His Cas. _Shit, he doesn’t even know where he is, but Cas will come. _He always will._ But before that, Dean is his own man and fuck these Romans if they think they can get a piece of him.

Wildly, he feels someone behind him, and grits his teeth when two more come on his side. The hunter attacks forward, knocking two of them off the stage like pins of bowling before he feels hands tugging him back from behind and forcefully pin him on the floor, with a hand on his head, slamming him headfirst on the floor. Dean grimaces at the pain and growls on the gag of his mouth, feeling the painful pressure in his shoulders and head.

_Fuckers._

Face planted on the floor Dean cannot see the men behind him but he wonders why he isn’t getting kicked in the stomach like how it usually happens. Then he remembers he is a merchandise and growls at the prospect of still getting sold when all he wants is to beat the crap out of the people who took him away from Cas. There are murmurs above him but Dean’s mind absently wanders to Cas and how Cas will react after finding that Dean is lost again. He can just imagine his angel’s bright blue eyes filling with worry, with an expression of grump soldier while going around searching for him, possibly already turning all buildings upside down with that adorably furious look in his face. Then once he finds Dean with that deadpan expression of his he will tell Dean how incredibly stupid it is to get caught like that. Then Dean will tell Cas he loves him because right now that’s all the hunter could think of when there are people holding him down and chaining his heels and arms for added security. He will have to tell Cas over and over that he fucking loves him and that he’ll never think of wandering off ever again.

Maybe.

“Sold!”

Dean’s eyes snap open. He has not been listening to what was happening but the pronouncement has him struggling to see who even gambled to take him. He doesn’t have to struggle long because he is pulled on his feet. He sways a little, body still for everyone to feast on but the crowd has not gained back its enthusiasm. They are still watching Dean with fear in their eyes which Dean is only too happy to see. But then his eyes fell on a dark-haired young man standing just beneath the floor he stands on. A curiously familiar Roman is watching him with such enthrallment, the hunter can feel prickle on his skin. But Dean’s eyes shone in recognition for this is the Roman who entertained him as the ‘king’ of Saturnalia not many nights ago.

_Aelius._

Hope flutters in Dean’s stomach. Aelius had been very nice, generous even with him, sharing laughter and amusement while they kiss under the light. Dean raises his head up, trying to show Aelius that he recognized him. That is, until the Roman’s expressionless face changed drastically to ominous.

Something tells Dean that this isn’t any friendly encounter as before. Aelius’ expression is too readable, the way his lips curves into a meaningful smile when Dean catches his eyes and the way he gives Dean’s body a slow, raking look has the hunter believing they will be continuing where they stopped soon and not in a gentle way. Dean presses his lips tight when he sees his capturer hand a key to Aelius. Dean's key. Dean's freedom. A sweat drops on the side of the hunter's head.

_S_ _hit._

“You sure you want this bull, master?” asks a crisp old man behind Dean.

“Yes. I want him. Very much.”

Dean gets tugged from the center stage on to the ladder. Aelius nods his head authoritatively to two men behind him and Dean is escorted down the stage. The hunter struggles again to no avail, till he finds himself trapped between the two Romans and gets dragged down the floor. Dean sees the crowd move out of his way, still full of wariness and apprehension. He ignores them and is fully aware when he falls behind Aelius walking outside the dark dome he has just noticed to be quite underground. He finds himself getting pushed up some stone stairs with the light of the night greeting him. It is like those hidden passages on the ground he sees in tomb raider’s movies located on the left or right side of some temple. They come out from the ground with its square frame, Aelius not even glancing back.

Somehow seeing the dark sky with the moon high above has Dean hoping for Cas. Maybe Cas couldn’t sense him because he is far in the underground? There isn’t anyone in the yard of stone plates the hunter figured out to be like a cemetery but he sure is positive that Cas will find him.

Dean tries to undo his binding but the chain now holding his elbows only jangles in the air. The grip on his upper arms tightens. He looks around trying to find a way out of this mess when he sees a closed carriage pull over. Clenching his jaw, Dean desperately tries to find a way but when he steps back, he is pushed forward inside the carriage floor with Aelius. The door sharply closes behind him.

Dean is on his knees quickly, eyes finding Aelius seated on the comfortable chair, still watching him in full fascination. The carriage begins to move.

“Come and sit beside me, Dean.”

Aelius remembers his name. Dean berates himself and just sits still on the floor with full suspicion. The Roman gives him a sly smile.

“That is what I like about you, Dean. You do not easily bend. But when I ask you to sit with me, it is only to make sure that you are comfortable, my king.”

The sweet-honey way he says ‘king’ makes Dean want to run as far away from him. There is gleam in his eyes that Dean has seen time and again from people whose hunger is insatiable. This man is one of them. He will be eaten alive.

“I did not think I can find you this way, my king.” He purrs. Dean tries to remember why he is called a king when he remembers the fake title. Aelius reaches out a hand toward his gag and rubs on it gently. Dean thinks the man will remove it, but Aelius simply traces his jawline with glazed in his eyes. “I never imagined you to be mine… this is just like a dream.”

Dean grunts with eyebrows contorting.

“Please, Dean. Won’t you sit beside me?”

Dean glares and makes a point with his eyes _‘Wanna be friendly with me then remove my chains, dumbass!’_ But even that seems to only make Aelius’ grin widen.

“You really are incredible… I have never seen anyone so beautiful and vibrant in my life…” he strokes Dean’s cheek, his eyes falling on the hunter’s legs. The hunter pulls away feeling too exposed and vulnerable. “You do not seem to be the ‘slave’ type… you’re like a wild wolf that needs taming… won’t you let yourself be tamed by me, Dean?”

Dean grits the cloth between his teeth and if he can only spit it out on the Roman’s face he would have. He is so sick of manipulating bastards like this, so sick of people who thinks they can own something as easily as life. Who the fuck do they think they are? Even gods can’t own them!

_Stop objectifying me!_

Aelius’ palm rubs on his bare leg has the hunter growling in his throat. Aelius smiles and drops down the floor before Dean’s knees. The hunter shifts up, his back pressing on the wall of the small carriage, eyes flashing dangerously.

_Come closer, I dare you… you’ll lose your nose…_

Aelius seems pretty confident as he crawls up to the hunter, hands on each side of Dean’s. His already hard cock presses down the hunter’s knees, chasing the feeling when Dean avoids the contact. Aelius’ eyes glints at him.

“Why are you avoiding me? Have I not made it clear who between us is the master, my King? It is Saturnalia… why do you think I’m the one pleasuring you? Had this been any other occasion, your beautiful mouth will be full of my cock.”

_“Guhtoff!”_ Dean throws his head forward, but Aelius’ slender hand grasped his neck, trapping him off the wall with power he didn’t think the Roman possessed. He feels Aelius move forward, body weighing on him. Dean cranes his neck to his side, exposing much of his neck but he didn’t want to meet Aelius’ attempts to take his lips. The Roman satisfied himself with nudging his nose on his cheeks till his lips ghosted on Dean’s ears.

“You are mine now, Dean. Mine to do as I please. You can fight me as long as you want, but I will still take you. Do you know why? Because I own you…” he nuzzles his nose under Dean’s ears and then bites on his lobe. Dean gasps and collides the side of his head on Aelius.

Aelius slaps him. Really hard that for a second Dean’s eyes see stars. Then both hands claw its way around Dean’s neck, choking him essentially. Dean has to raise his neck to avoid gasping for air when the Roman bites his exposed throat. Dean struggles but the friction on his hard cock as Aelius presses his hips down has the hunter groaning uncontrollably.

“Why deny the pleasure, Dean?” he hears Aelius whisper on his ear, breathing so hard Dean can feel the hot touch of his lips. “Why not let me consume you…? Let me take you… here, now…” his hands are like octopus on drugs, touching, rubbing and feeling all of Dean. He shuts his eyes close and swallows. It's not like... it's not like he's back on hell but this feels like a relieve of memory. And it sucks, because the only moment Dean's ever that vulnerable was when he's no on hold of his freedom.

That he has been forsaken.

Dean feels Aelius’ fingers trail in the middle of his chest, down to his stomach. He grits his teeth and looks away. He closes his eyes when the hand closed on his throbbing cock. The pleasure freezes him and Dean curses as the man begins rutting above him, making sure to take the heated pleasure on each move of his hips.

Dean hates himself when a soft moan escaped his trapped lips. The sound snaps Aelius’ head forward. The Roman reaches for his cheeks and begin kissing the cloth gagging the hunter. Dean can feel his tongue slip on his sore lips. Feels Aelius’ hands roam around his bare body.

_“I am going to make you mine Dean until your body can only recognize me. You’re mine.”_

Dean tries to bolt up but the Roman has the upper hand with both his arms and legs tied. Aelius gives him a winning smile before shuffling his legs, straddling Dean beneath him and removing his own tunic.

Dean can swear he hears people shout outside but is lost when he feels the hot opening of the Roman pressing at the head of his cock. Aelius is being clumsy, too excited to properly drop in his unprepared rim. But Dean doesn’t care if Aelius is not prepared, it will hurt even him but he supposes he needs the pain now—to remind himself that this isn’t the pleasure he needs.

Aelius tries again but Dean’s cock slips to the side. Dean gulps hard when he hears the door of the carriage burst open, removing the wooden door as if it is blown away by tornado. Dean blinks at Cas who also finds him, but the angel’s eyes widen at the picture presented before him.

Of Dean underneath a naked man, tunic off his shoulders covering his waist with one hand choking Dean while as he tries to press on Dean’s hardness. Castiel’s eyes turned a shade darker than ever Dean has seen him Aelius did not even have a chance to register what was happening when the angel grabs his shoulder and knocks him to the side. Castiel does not hold back and the force has Aelius’ body slamming and destroying the carriage walls and he lands on the stone street unconscious.

The next thing Dean sees is Castiel above him, gently removing his gag, unchaining his bonds from arms to legs and rousing him into sitting position. Warm, familiar hands wrap around his cheeks, holding him gently, lovingly.

“Dean,” his deep voice is steady. “Dean, please… are you okay?”

Dean doesn't answer. Tears are streaming down his cheeks behind his close lids. Castiel's grip on his arm tightens. Dean responds when he let his head roll forward and drop on Castiel’s shoulder who has embraced him. Strong arms hold him, tight claws clutching on his bare skin. Dean leans forward even more and feels the lump on the angel’s throat constrict and tense.

“Dean, please…” Cas’ voice breaks.

“Get me out of here, Cas.” Dean whispers in his ears.

“Of course.” Castiel doesn’t hesitate to rip the remaining chains from Dean’s arms and legs with gentleness you wouldn’t expect from an angel in rage. Cas wraps Dean in the toga that was left on the floor and carries the man in his arms with ease. Dean feels so light being carried like that in an odd, bridal fashion way. Cas walks into the empty street, Dean only slightly seeing the mess the angel did with all the Roman guards and Aelius’ body

“Did you kill him?” Dean whispers, finding himself snaking his arms around the angel’s neck and burying his nose on the crook of his neck. Cas smells so familiar. It releases the tension on Dean’s body. He is safe. Cas has found him.

“That is too light a punishment.” Castiel growls, walking swiftly away from scene like it was the most detestable place above the earth. “I’m not done with him.”

Dean wanted to see his expression but his droopy eyes wouldn’t even let him latch his cheeks away from the warmth of Castiel’s neck. Cas has wrapped him so securely in Aelius’ toga which Dean hates, but the presence of the angel he loves washes away any untoward feeling he may have about the cloth.

“How did you find me…?” he whispers, still trying to cling on to that consciousness because he doesn’t want to leave yet. Cas. He wants to talk more to Cas. Bask in his presence and erase away Aelius’ unwanted touches on his skin.

“I located the woman who ensnared you. It took time as no one knows her and I didn’t stay long enough to ask people, but I know what she looks like. And people know what you look like. You may not be aware of it, Dean, but you have a powerful presence in the room. It may not be as profound as with me, but people tend to find you even in the middle of the crowd. Every time you walk in the vicinity, I always notice people turning at you. It has always been like that even back in our own time. I found the woman in the middle of the market, trying to find another victim. I cornered her without prejudice. She told me everything I needed to know albeit not on her own volition. I had no desire to play pitter patter with her when I knew you were in danger. I shouldn’t have taken my eyes off you knowing how slave traders are off hunting on the season where no form of authority can protect the citizens. When I realized they brought you in an underground slave market I tried to get there as fast as I could. But you were already sold. I destroyed the place down if that knowledge will give you comfort.”

Dean only chuckles, heavy eyes opening a little but all he can see is Castiel’s white skin. He unconsciously opens his lips and bites on the angel’s neck. Cas gasps in surprise for a moment, but he only wraps Dean in his arms closer.

_“I’m sorry, Dean. I failed you—”_

“Not your goddamn fault… m’ just too pretty to look at…”

Cas’s hold on him tightens.

“I know.”

“And you know what else, Cas?”

“Yes, Dean?”

_“I’m yours.”_

Dean closes his eyes, his lips kissing the mark he arrogantly wants to leave despite his weakening limbs. He wants to do more but alas, darkness begins to consume him. He can’t remember how long he has stayed with his arms around Cas. Doesn’t even fucking care if there’s anyone watching as the most beautiful creature that walks the earth carries a human to wherever heaven they are now heading off to. Just the idea that he is safe with Cas, that’s enough for Dean to let himself get dead to the world.

Castiel’s deep voice responding in soft whisper almost next to his ear.

_“Yes, Dean. You’re mine. Only mine.”_

* * *

_I love you, Dean_

When Dean next opens his eyes, he feels water surrounding his body but it isn’t cold. He is on the edge of a large, tranquil pool with many tall pillars and overlooking the waning moon. Panic ensues for a second but soft assurances that he is safe is whispered on his ears. Dean feels a warm body pressed behind him. Feels his inside full of a cock. Dean tries to squirm, feeling complete and aroused but strong arms hold him steadfast. It’s Cas. He just knows it’s Cas whose got his dick inside him. The thought has Dean smiling and reaching his arms backwards till he feels the angel’s hair. Cas inclines his head on Dean’s touch, kissing the back of his neck with soft, hot lips.

“You’re back.”

“And waking as a cock-warmer isn’t at all the bad.” Dean grins, fully awakening and feeling invigorated. He flexes his muscle and pressed his ass down, letting a dirty moan escape his lips. He is sitting on Castiel’s lap while they sit at the edge of the pool, half their bodies submerged in the water. Apparently, this is Cas’ kink that Dean is only too willing to participate.

“Where are we?” he asks when he has adjusted himself on Cas, feeling the angel fully sheathed and enjoying every minute of it. “And what did I do to earn such a dreamy wake-up call?” he rolls his hips and finds satisfaction when Castiel moans behind him.

Cas wraps arms around his waist to stop him.

“This is my apology for being careless.”

“If you’ve been this apologetic every time, Cas then man, I’ll never let you out of my room. Makes me wanna count how many apologies you need to make up from the start.”

Cas whimpers behind him. Dean turns in concern.

“Hey, I didn’t mean that.”

“I’m sorry, Dean.”

“For…?”

Cas only murmurs behind him that sounded like a defeated squawk but Dean understood.

“Cas, hey—” Dean wiggles the angel’s arm off his middle and shifts to face him. Castiel’s hard dick slips out of him and though the lost has Dean disappointed, nothing is more important than talking to a guilty Cas. He has much experienced with his angel going through the roller coaster of emotions and he finds, after a long time, that talking Cas down is as important as letting the angel know he is needed. He sees Cas with his downcast eyes as he gently sits on the angel’s lap again, his softening cock trapped under Dean’s ass. He can see Cas watching him attentively, his blue eyes glazed over but the puppy look in his eyes makes Dean want to fuck him. But he didn’t. He can wait till Cas is out of his guilty zone. Dean cups the angel’s cheeks and Castiel nuzzles on his touch, eyes fluttering close.

“Dean, I’m sor—”

Dean slides his hands behind Castiel and kisses him hotly. Lips wet, tongue directly invading all space, Dean breeches and catches the angel’s breath. He pulls up and green eyes meet the slightly blown away blue.

“Dean, really—”

Dean kisses him again, pulling the angel’s head to him, their noses almost flat at the pressure. Dirty sounds filled the silent pool and Dean wants to fuck him soon.

“If I hear one more apology…” he pulls only briefly, his eyes on Castiel’s plump lips he considers his territory, “I’m gonna fuck in this sinful mouth till you’re gagging with my cum… but I guess you’d make apology more of your pronounced… win win for me though.” He brushes their lips together and parts, then moves again to lick on Cas’ bottom lip, urging the angel to open up for him. Cas slightly parts his lips, his warm breath meeting Dean’s lips as the hunter bites his upper lip before complete invading all the space. Dean stops himself before he completely lost control and sighs with his forehead touching Cas. Cas’ blue of the blue eyes is focused on him alone.

“Still wanna apologize?”

Cas nods. Dean sighs.

“Cas, stop this. That was my fault alone for being careless.”

Castiel pulls his forehead together. “I should have been there sooner, Dean… you shouldn’t have been put in a situation where you have to feel powerless by another man…” he feels Cas tense under him and Dean lowers his hand on Cas’ bare shoulder and rubs his thumbs on his blades. “I should have been there to stop it—”

“You did— you weren’t late at all. Just in the nick of time.”

“He very nearly succeeded—”

“Yeah, well he didn’t. And I’m not a kid, Cas. It’s not like it’s my first time almost getting laid without consent. I’m not fragile when it comes to the dirty ways the world works. It’s a little off putting to be manhandled, yeah but nothing happened past something I couldn’t get over. You came, that’s what happened and that’s what I remember. I’m fine.”

Castiel wraps his arms around Dean and pulls him close, his nose digging deep on the hunter’s neck. Dean is a little surprised, but returns the gesture.

“I know you’re strong, Dean. I don’t question that. But you shouldn’t have to go through things like that anymore when you’re with me. I —”

“You what? Want to wrap me in your arms and never let anyone see me? Want to keep me in your room so no one can get ideas?”

“I will if I could.”

“Possessive as fuck.”

“I love you, Dean.”

Dean inhales and bites Cas’ neck in response. It sent a shiver down the angel that Dean felt and he licks the mark gently. Under him he can feel his dick twitch as it swells between their torso. He wants Cas to do something about that but his tensed body is still not to Dean’s liking. He pulls from him to see straight in the angel’s blue eyes. Just like they always do to get lines straight between them.

“Cas, listen, this whole messed up thing is part of the deal—”

“You made a deal—?” a horrified expression graced the angel’s beautiful features.

“No, I mean— it’s part of going here. You think I wasn’t prepared for anything when I asked Gabriel to bring me here to you? You think I liked the idea of you trapped here knowing nothing of what’s happening? Gabriel tried to tell me you’d come back to me even if it kills you and _fuck,_ I didn’t doubt him one second. But I just know I can’t leave you here alone… I don’t know if staying here too much will change you… and the way we parted then… no, Cas. I made this happen so fuck you if you think everything’s your fault. I came here wanting to protect you on my own. I can’t protect you if I’m weak, Cas. I’m never gonna be weak when it comes to you, kay?”

“Dean…” Castiel whimpers as he bows his head on the hunter’s neck.

“Who’s the baby now?” Dean grins.

“I won’t let you out of my sight again.”

“Better not. These people here just want to tear me apart.”

“I know what they want to do. But I’ll smite all of them this time before they get to you.”

“Protective and sexy as fuck. Sorry for the trouble, Cas but what can I say? You have a very pretty boyfriend.”

“Yes. Yes I do.” The reply guts Dean and he turns his face so he is whispering on the angel’s ears. So much has happened but reminding himself that Cas is with him, naked to the core and almost hard beneath him gets Dean thinking why they were only talking and not fucking at the same time. He nibbles on Cas’ ears to send him the message.

“Cas… blow me?”

Castiel moves to quickly, sliding his hands under Dean’s armpits and hauling him out of the water. The angel easily maneuvers him up to the edge of the tiled ground and settles himself between Dean’s legs. Dean blinks at the three-second change of position and smirks as he sees Castiel’s eyes longing on his glistening cock. It twitches and Dean rumbles a chuckle.

“Sup, handsome?” he grins feeling aroused. Cas between his legs will always be beautiful. Cas smiles up at him, seeing him already hard. Fucking angel. “You just gonna stare?”

Cas takes his length in one hand, strokes it up to its height till Dean feels all the electricity in his body switching full gears and he sighs. Cas leans on his cock, peppering it with kisses at first, before swallowing him whole. Dean grits his teeth and reaches for Castiel’s hair. Cas pulls his mouth up to the head, sucking on the precum and drinking what he could before bobbing up and down with intensity. Sparks start to appear in Dean’s eyes as he throws his head backward. Cas is petulant in his sucking till Dean is arching his back. Noises fills the air as the angel licks and sucks him. He looks down again only to Dean’s groan at the sight as he came hot. But Cas wouldn’t let up as he slides Dean into his mouth more, groaning too at the heavy member only getting bigger and bigger in his mouth. Dean wriggles as he feels the need to push, to keep feeling the friction so he takes Cas’ head both in his hands, looking down and feeling the tip of his dick nudging Castiel’s throat. He looks down and feels heaven wrapped around his cock.

“Cas…” he groans in pleasure. _Damn Cas and his mouth_… _so fucking hot… _“Cas…” he whispers, clawing, “Want… want to fuck your mouth…” he grips the back of Castiel’s head to see the angel briefly looking up at him with his glazed, lustful eyes and if the view of the angel, hot and burning, cheeks red with mouth full of him doesn’t make Dean rush his come, he doesn’t know what will. “Please?” he adds, already rocking forward.

Castiel consents by closing his eyes with Dean’s cock in his mouth. Dean lost it. He thrusts forward slowly not wanting to surprise Cas whose head is trapped in his hands. Sliding forward to that hot lips has Dean moaning again. He feels trickle of his cum down Cas’ throat which Castiel is only too willing to take. The angel put both hands on Dean’s thighs for support. Dean’s breathing hitched and comes shorter and shorter with each thrust. The feel of Cas’ warm mouth is too heavenly and Dean doesn’t want to stop. He groans when he feels his dick twitch harder and fucks harder into Cas mouth.

_“Fuck,” _Dean grits his teeth, bowing forward, pulling Cas along as he thrusts fully wildly into him, “_Fuck, Cas you are… fucking hot…my dick in your mouth… fuck…”_

He erased everything that happened that day and only remembers Castiel’s debouched face full of his cock as he feels the tension in his stomach building up. He ends bottoming into Cas, feeling the tip of his cock nudging Cas throat. He rolls his hips and cries at the pleasure of it and his thrusts became erratic, deeper and with last groan from his throat, he explodes inside Cas. Dean pulls Cas’ head, wanting him to take everything which the angel is only too happy to comply. He drinks everything Dean gives till the man spurts the last of his cum and sighs, letting Cas lick on his softening member. He watches Cas kiss the tip of his dick and smiles warmly, rubbing Castiel’s chin fondly with his thumb.

“So beautiful…”

Castiel heaves himself suddenly from the water and crawls on top of Dean. The hunter leans back, both arms falling behind him to support till he finds Cas standing in front of him. And fuck is his dick twitching and hard. He blinks at Castiel’s ripped body glistening wet under the moonlight—so perfect with all the contours and muscles in the right places. So hot and all his as Dean grumbles an apology for neglecting as he kneels and place his palms on each of Castiel’s thighs. He worships that heavy length, that so perfect pinkish head and firm balls. He catches himself on time as he nuzzles on Cas hair, kissing his balls that earns a pleasurable moan from Cas’ lips. The pleasure of Cas’ dick sliding in his mouth is melting Dean’s insides. Cas’ hands drop on his hair to guide him and for a moment Dean doesn’t move to let Cas know he can guide him.

Completely giving him the power, Castiel doesn’t hesitate to take the reigns and begins fucking in Dean’s mouth with the perfect movement of his ass. Dean wraps his palms on Cas’ cheeks to support the slowly building movement of sliding him in and out of his mouth. He hollows his cheeks and begins sucking Cas in earnest. The angel let out a gasp and Dean groans at the dirty moans he makes and sucks him harder. The noises they made. Cas begins to pant, calling Dean’s name again and again like a prayer, hands clasping Dean and he rolls his hips. Dean stops his own movement when he feels Cas begin thrusting forward and fuck into him. The slide of the angel’s hot cock inside his mouth gives Dean shivers and squeezes his eyes shut. It feels incredible to have Cas dick inside his mouth again and he can’t wait to have him buried inside him once more. Urgently, Dean feels the rawness of each thrust, feels the angel twitch above him. He looks up and heaven on earth, Cas looks so fucking hot. Dean wants to kiss him, wants to fuck him while Castiel fucks in him too. _God, he wants to do many things all at once, but first—_

He feels Cas built up tension finally gets release and gets a mouthful of his cum. Dean drink him, sucks him, guides him to get everything all out till Cas is panting and the hunter is still sucking him dry. Cas is still half hard when the angel slips out of his mouth, leans down to him and kisses him full in the lips. Dean just opens for him, eyes fluttering open to see the beautiful angel so lost in kissing him. He knows Cas can taste his own cum but the lewd way he still drinks in Dean’s mouth has the hunter getting hard again.

He cannot _not _get hard when it comes to Cas. Dean reaches to him and raises his body till he towers on the kneeling angel. Castiel watches him intently as Dean pushes him on the floor, settling between the angel’s legs he is only too happy to part. Cas splays beneath him without saying a word, blue eyes on Dean’s, watching carefully, not missing a beat.

Dean sees Castiel watching him and it’s enough to push his cock up again. Cas is pliant under him, pink lips parted open in anticipation, his dark hair mess and tangled up in all direction courtesy of the hunter. Dean rakes his eyes on Castiel’s perfect vessel from his marked-up neck Dean reminds himself to add more, his collar bone that only screams of sex, his heaving chest and erect buds, his torso that can shape mountains. Castiel’s ocean blue eyes of midday. Dean loves everything about him.

“Cas, look at me.”

“I am looking, Dean.” His deep voice rumbles.

Dean did what any sane man will and stretches his palms on Cas’ torso. Eyes not leaving each other, Dean takes Castiel’s dick in his hands and begins stroking him again. The angel closes his eyes with a bite on his bottom lip.

“Look at me.” Dean orders. Castiel’s hooded eyes opens and stares at Dean. Making sure the angel can see his expression, Dean parts his legs even wider, clenching his jaw at the sight of Castiel, debauched and all for him to take, lay open before him with his pink and lively cock under his ministrations. As much as he loves Cas in full power and in control, Dean takes pleasure in making him crumble in his hands too and this night will serve as a reminder he can have Cas to his own too. He strokes Castiel’s length rapidly and Cas hitches a breath, arching his body and whimpering, but their eye contact never breaks. Dean’s other hand busied itself on Cas’ tight hole, earning a moan from the angel whose body begins to squirm. Dean smiles. His breath begins to shorten too at how lovely everything is and Dean is sure he will kill anyone who will try to make Cas look this way.

This is only his. _Castiel is his._

He grips Cas’ dick harder and moves his wrist in succession and Cas gasps and thrusts fully in his hands, crying out his name. Dean hushes him and enjoys making Cas writhe in pleasure.

_Beautiful. So beautiful._

Oh, how he loves to see Cas lost in pleasure with clear eyes. His lips parts, tongue licking around him, biting when Dean twists on his dick and moans as he breaches second finger inside him. Dean works dutifully, opening him wide while he feels the tension building into Cas. When he feels Cas is reaching his limit, Dean withdraws, earning a groan from the angel.

“Dean…” he pleaded.

“I know, I’ll get you there, Cas.”

Dean slides down and begins lapping on Castiel’s hole. Cas cries and thrashes above him but Dean pressed his thighs to calm. He hears Cas moan. Dean parts his cheeks and thrusts his tongue in, keeping a steady lolling movement before sucking on him deep.

“Dean!” Castiel gasps again. Dean doesn’t let up and using his right hand, he grips the base of Cas’ dick to hold him. Castiel squirms again. The hunter wastes no time and works his tongue deeper, lapping enthusiastically and biting on Cas’ perineum before sucking on his dick. Cas’ whimper above him is full begging that Dean’s ears could no longer ignore.

He raises up and fucks into Cas like he has never fucked anyone before. Cas doubles at the first break of Dean’s cock into his rim, then eases with him inside.

“Look at me.” Dean says with gritted teeth, taking Cas’ hard length in his hand and stroking with each of his thrust. Cas cries openly, blue eyes rolling back into his skull before finding its way back to Dean.

“Dean…” he moans, the slide of Dean in him making his body tremble.

_“Fuck,” _Dean hisses when Castiel breaks and whimpers beneath him, exposing his neck as his hands claws for something on the ground, arching his body in angles that has Dean’s mouth watering, “Cas… fuck…” he thrusts inside the angel asking for more. _More._ Intensity builds in their body as hot and raw skin to skin shakes their body. Dean moans too.

He feels a tremble in his body and he explodes inside Castiel with a loud groan. Cas moans with him, clenching on Dean, taking everything he gives. Dean spurts his last inside Cas and without removing his dick, he slumps on Cas’ chest. Both breathing heavily, Dean kisses Cas’ chest and moves up till he is in possession of Cas’ lips.

Cas is too lost in the pleasure to answer, letting Dean inside his mouth, licking his lips and breathing hard on his face.

“Good things come from mistake, Cas.” He whispers on the angel’s ears. “Unless you consider this a mistake.”

Cas breathes then opens his blue eyes to Dean.

“No. Never.”

Dean smiles. “I hate to break it to you but we’re just only getting warmed up.”

Despite the smile that initially tugs on Castiel’s lips, he easily frowns too.

“No… you haven’t eaten anything yet. You were taken from me…” he gulps hard and his left hand wraps on Dean possessively as if the very thought will take the man away again, “you were taken before we can have dinner… I don’t want you to tire out on me.”

“Alas, a man can really not live on sex alone.”

“I’ll get you, Dean.”

“Later.” Dean buries his nose on the crook of Castiel’s neck and inhales him in satisfaction. Cas begins rubbing his back. “I’m still enjoying my cock-warmer.”

Cas smiles, pleased. “I want to be on top later. Is that okay, Dean?”

Dean smirks. “Wanna fight for it?”

Castiel concentrates then wraps both arms around Dean, sighing.

“No. But I will still top later.”

The angel’s stubbornness has Dean chuckling and thrusting deeper into him. Cas breathes loud and wraps his legs around the hunter. This will be a long, long fucking indeed.


	16. Let There Be Light

_ ** ** _

_ **Fiat Lux ** _

* * *

Dean wakes up on some ass pounding on the wall. It's a familiar feeling. Legs spread out, heat beneath the strokes of his wild angel who's taken care of him since last night and who promised him he'll always make Dean feel happy and sated.

He grins awake, feeling Cas sliding in and out making pleasurable moans. Dean kisses his cheek to let him know he is awake. Dean is pressed on the wall with the angel supporting his whole weight. Cas has anchored his legs on his waist and fucks into him with abandon. He grunts and holds the angel’s head, pulling him into a wet kiss, slow and with fire. He's been kissing this lips forever and somehow he never gets tired of it. He pulls to see those blue staring at him bright and lustful.

“Good morning to you too.” Dean chuckles and loves the way Cas’ bed hair is so messy when he wraps his arms around the angel's neck. He hums when Castiel takes it slowly. Cas carries his whole weight like a pro. Who'd say no to be this awesome hot angel's bottom?

“Hello, Dean.” Cas whispers, looking down and rocking another thrust inside the hunter. Dean gives a soft moan, his eyes rolling back on his head. Cas just takes his time now that his boyfriend is awake. The slow run of Cas' cock pulling out, skin scraping in Dean's hole, and then returning just as slow has the man tightening his grip. His hole tightens around the angel's cock, eliciting a dirty moan from the angel. Pleased, Dean runs his fingers at the back of the angel when he begins that fast pace thrusting, Dean feels like his insides are exploding with every thrusts. A point comes when Dean bites Castiel's neck as the building pressure finally kicks in. Draining Dean when his release jets up Castiel's body while the angel chases his climax inside the hunter.

Cas comes shooting inside and Dean groans, open mouth deliberately turning to kiss Castiel on the mouth hot and raw.

“Uh… what… what did I do to deserve this?” he peppers kisses on Castiel’s neck where he stays, licking and kissing his favorite spot.

“Waking up beside me.” Castiel doesn't pull. His cock is still hard and twitching deep inside Dean, like he's planning to make it his vacation spot. Dean wriggles his hips playfully, earning a groan so sexy Dean's tempted to move again. Castiel's hands slipping on his sides stops him. Then Cas gives another thrust to that very well pounded ass.

“_Fuck…”_ Dean feels the angel bottoms up and has to cling his legs tight, the burning of his hole and clenching at the same time giving him much reason to arch his body. He exhales when Cas still moves and he drops his head on the angel’s shoulder. one last time. He feels Cas’ body shiver and knew Cas is coming close again. _Angels. They are never satisfied. _Cas suddenly embraces him tight, gathering him into his arms like Dean is about to disappear. Pushing Dean a little deeper into him till Dean can feel the hilt of his cock. Impaled and filled, Dean let out an erratic moan. Cas biting on his shoulder when groan in pleasure as the angel releases inside Dean.

“Let’s give you a bath.” Cas murmurs, carrying Dean towards the pool, hands casually cupping Dean's ass cheeks. Dean giggles because Cas just isn't pulling out.

“You makin me feel like an invalid, Cas.”

“Not invalid, no. Just loved.” 

“Aww, you sound like I can believe you.” Dean is aware how he and Castiel looks like. A naked angel, strong and muscular carrying an equally tall and muscled naked guy on his bare waist while buried deep inside him. He can just make the picture out, his soft cock suddenly twitching in interest. All this sex is incomparable to his history with woman. Sex with Castiel is just different.

"You better believe it because I have every intention of drilling it in your head, Dean."

"Don't think it's my head you're currently drilling." Dean wriggles his ass again, earning him a soft growl and a spank from his baby. Dean groans with a smile, head dropping on Cas again as he walks, their eyes connected and soft.

“You should. I’m not letting you go easily, Dean.”

“Do you see me going anywhere else?”

Cas shakes his head, and looks up as they enter the bedroom. He lays Dean down the spread bed then lies on top of him. Dean stares as Cas dips down to kiss his lips softly,

"I thought you're cleaning me?" he said teasingly when Castiel pulls up.

"I thought you look best with my cum inside you. I'm not yet done, Dean. There's a whole pent up energy inside me that wants to take you again and again... and again, sometimes I scare myself I might hurt you." 

Dean quickly rises on his elbows looking serious. Castiel has removed that mask of angel constipation and is looking at Dean so helplessly. The man finds himself wanting to erase that expression. Cas should never- must never have that look again. Like he's in eternal pain. And Dean's causing it. Dean thought they've gone pass it when they talked last night. This is about last night, he's sure. He's abduction, him getting sold as a slave. It has to be that. 

Only Dean and things that happen to Dean can hurt the angel this way, he's exposing himself.

"Cas?"

The angel sighs and drops himself heavily on top of Dean, sending the hunter flat on his back with no space left whatsoever between them. Castiel trapped him underneath him. Pins him. Covers him. Skin to skin, chest to chest, groin to groin. But they don't move. Dean doesn't feel aroused at all. Cas is... Cas is spiraling. Last night was a quiet talk, Castiel only holding Dean in his arms as the hunter told him what happened, what nearly happened.

Castiel giving him promises and they made love till morning.

He remembers how he wakes up getting pounded on the wall. Dean should've known it's because of some unsolved turmoil from the angel. Dean really doesn't like talking, he doesn't engage after what's been said. He realizes he never asked Cas how he felt. About what happened when he finds Dean gone. Dean sighs and wraps his arms behind the angel, tucking Cas tight on his body.

He is an asshole. Why's he always thinking this is about himself?

"Cas?"

Cas only presses his nose on the crook of Dean's neck. Dean falls silent. Then he begins humming. Zeppelin. California. The one Cas once commented to be jiving with the songs in heaven, though why California was chosen spins the whole story of Dean lecturing Cas about it. He fondly remembers that. Dean doesn't even know what that means, though he knows Zeppelin song must've been made from heaven, really. So he hums. He let the beat of his heart thrum over Cas' body. He just cradle Cas, comforting him like how he did last night. It must've been terrifying for the angel too. So Dean kisses his neck softly. A deep feeling of taking care of Cas, his protector and savior, his everything who comes to his aid every single time, blowing everything in place with his spark and fury.

But when it's only just Dean, Castiel crumbles. Cas just... weakens. Dean wishes to all the gods nothing to not let anything bad happen to him. He wishes not for himself but for this faithful creature who's so in love with him it feels like the angel will just die and wither if something happens to Dean. And Dean doesn't want that.

_"I'll be more careful next time."_ he tells Cas, kissing the nook of Castiel's neck. "I'm here now, Cas... it's okay... you got me..."

Castiel nods briefly. Dean can feel the angel biting his lower lip as he did so. The angel tries to mumble an apology but Dean just hushes him and embraces him closer. Then he proceeds in humming again. Then he breaks into a song so jolly just to bring a smile on Castiel's lips. _"Hey, hey what can I do?"_

Cas knowing the mix of Zeppelins, only sighs. That's not enough. Dean buries his lips on Castiel's ears and begins his dirty talk. About how when Castiel's done sulking, how Dean will eat him. Put his cock inside Cas. Make Cas forget everything. Only remember that Dean's in here, with him. Castiel chuckles, Dean's lips tickling his ears.

"Oh, Dean." Cas sighs, finally letting off all the tension on his shoulders roll away. Dean takes the cue, rolls their body so he is on top of the angel, green eyes meaningful and so in love.

"Thanks for coming for me, Cas." he says, a tinge serious, both hands taking Castiel's palm from the side of the bed. Castiel lets him, eyes on Dean's face, lips so pink and inviting. But Dean controls himself. Should stop going after his needs and focus on Cas' instead. This relationship is two way. "I know I don't tell you this a lot, but..." he raises Cas' hand, the one with the made up ring he gave as a gift to the angel and kisses it. It's enough message for Castiel's blue eyes to widen, pupils dilating as Dean slowly raises the angel's hand up his head, giving all hints that he will take charge again.

This angel. Beautiful angel always made for Dean. The hunter's eyes darken, just looking at how Cas is letting him take everything without any sign of hesitation. Castiel bare and beneath him like he'll do anything Dean says just because he's Dean. Just because he loves Dean. Sometimes the feeling is hurting Dean, because he knows if he's in pain, then so will Cas be. That's how profound they are. 

So he should be more strong. More resilient just like Cas.

"What do you want, Cas?" Dean asks, eyes dark with lust and want. Castiel is his. Body and angel soul. like they haven't engage in any intercourse at all, like every time is a first time. Their needs insatiable no matter how many times. Castiel opens his mouth.

"You." he says roughly, timbre of deep voice hooking on Dean's cock, pulling him again to life, "Your mouth on my cock, Dean... Just you inside me."

"As you wish." Dean whispers, leaning to kiss Castiel first, slow and tender, urging Cas to just open his mouth and let him explore. Then Dean is sliding down his neck. Taking his time planting marks and hickie everywhere that people can see. Make them see Castiel belongs to him. His hands slides down both Cas' nipples, and it's sensitivity is known to the hunter.

He and Cas knows each other's body this far in the game. There's no more holding back. Dean finally slides to the right pink bud. Already perking up at the first lave of tongue. Dean sucks it. Sucks more till he feels Cas squirm beneath him. He rolls it between his teeth, then flattens his tongue over it gain and again. He did the same to the left bud. Always hard. Castiel exhales, hands thrashing on his sides, calling out Dean's name.

Then Dean gradually drags his tongue down Cas' abdomen. Those packs Dean always find mouth-watering. He kisses them one by one. Castiel lets out a satisfied moan when Dean's hand finds his cock. Dean loves Cas making sound. Loves Cas crying his name. Loves Cas soft beneath him. He wants Cas on top. Wants Cas beneath him. It doesn't matter. He's taking Cas as long as Cas wants him.

"Dean," Cas breaks, when Dean's expert hands finally gets him hard. Dean doesn't need telling. He slides down, nose getting smacked by Castiel's already leaking cock. An image Dean always loves because Cas cock is _big._ Hard and big. Dean doesn't know Jimmy Novak that well, but hey... the man's obviously from a gifted family.

Dean kisses the top of Cas' hard cock, nose sniffing on that aphrodisiac angel cum. He can get addicted to that smell. Dean swallows his whole, Castiel quickly buckling as Dean also deep throats him.

"Dean," Cas groans again, both fingers clawing on Dean's scalp, pushing and pulling at the same time, his light body digging down the bed, then thrusting but stopping himself at the same time. His voice breaks and Dean realizes what Castiel instinctively needs, though the angel will be damned before he admits it.

Dean pulls his lips, too stretched on Castiel's size, then stops in the middle too. He doesn't suck, he doesn't bob. He just stops halfway, green eyes on Castiel. The angel frantically looks beneath him to see what's causing the delay, sees the green eyes of the hunter upon him, blown and dark, red lips close on cock, and Castiel's breathing hard.

"D-Dean?"

Dean just looks at him, mouth starting to ache. Castiel blinks, then gets the message. He starts shaking his head, but Dean grips on his hips. Tells him silently to just do it. Castiel's chest heaves, and tho Dean knows angel's aren't supposed to breathe, but how else is Cas supposed to show how everything is affecting him?

So the hunter waits. It takes seconds to finally see that glint of arousal on the angel when Cas realizes how serious Dean is. Slowly, he reaches for Dean's head and steadies himself. It takes another moment for the angel to move again, but then he begins fucking inside Dean's mouth.

Dean braces himself, elbow steadily holding him as Castiel thrusts slowly in his mouth. It comes slow at first, then the chase began. He can hear Castiel groaning above him and it's the best music Dean's ever heard. If he can only have a recorder here, he would record all of Castiel's panting and cries of his name. Make it his soundtrack. The thought makes Dean's dick jump up and he starts looking for friction too. Except, Cas is undone.

Cas' thrusting become wild on the next beat. Dean, filled with the angel's dirty moan, begin moaning too. Using his right hand, he touches Cas' hole, feels the sun steaming out of the flush pink hole. Dean closes his eyes, fingers sinking in. Castiel cries. He fucking cries as Dean stretches and scissors inside him, all the while fucking Dean's mouth.

And it's the best feeling when Castiel's whole body gives a shiver. He begins pulling Dean up but the hunter won't. He wants Cas-- all of Cas and that includes the angel fully coming in his mouth. Cas' cry is loud and broken as he shakes his ass, chasing the wetness and heat of Dean's mouth as he comes. The hunter pulls a little to have space to swallow, and then he's licking Cas.

Castiel throws his head back, his whole sated body looking so soft and sensitive. Dean kneels, licking the cum on his palm and swallowing. His eyes are on Castiel when he grabs the angel's hips and pulls on him. Castiel snaps his head to look at Dean and Dean loves the glow on the angel's skin. He smiles, dragging Castiel's ass down to his legs, the angel spreading his legs to accomodate Dean who licks his palm, then takes his hard cock. Castiel watches as Dean strokes himself, then heaves Castiel's ass up his thighs.

Castiel closes his eyes, chin up.

Dean sinks in him, slowly dragging his hard cock deep on the angel's tightness. Because god Cas is tight. Always tight like every time he wakes up he probably restores this body to it's virgin state so every time Dean fucks him he just feels breaking into someone holy. Cas is holy. Holy fuck he bottoms up finally, balls pressed on Castiel's cheeks. Dean moans and stares at the angel staring at him too.

There's mutual love there. But Cas, being holy and all, but most importantly, belonging to Dean, the hunter begins his rough fucking. He pulls a little back, and then pounds on Castiel's pink hole like he means to break it. Castiel reaches to Dean's arms, digging his nails on the hunter's skin as Dean jostles his body. Rocks his body. Defiles his body with incessant rocking, the bed creaks, the wall shakes. Castiel cries every time Dean slots in after a long drag backwards. He drags out, then thrusts so hard, the angel's spreading his legs so wide just to get Dean in the right spot, and when Dean hits the right spot, Cas melts.

"Dean!" Cas cries when a powerful thrust nearly gets them both coming. Dean doesn't let Cas though. He holds the angel's cock, not wanting to make him come, even when they've come so many times that day. Dean stops him. He pounds on Cas. Pounds on that ass. He takes Cas, because Cas wants him. Cas needs him. He can feel Castiel still pulling him in, like it's not enough.

And Dean gives everything.

Their climax both drags loud moans and Dean cums inside his angel. He marks him. He puts his seed in him. Because Cas lets him. It drains everything on Dean and just like Cas, he tumbles down the angel who catches him into a warm embrace.

It's early in the morning, but Dean feels like sleeping again. Castiel murmurs on his ears, reminding Dean how much he loves him. How much Dean is giving him. And how he wants Dean to stay. 

If only Sam can see them now... Dean sleeps with a smile on his face

The morning is peaceful.

* * *

“I really don’t like it.” Dean grumbles when he and Cas walk along the paved road up slope going back to Prometheus’ villa. They finally reached an agreement to head for Prometheus' place that afternoon. After ten more rounds of hot sex and Dean's too happy to disagree that Cas pulls that one on him. Dean doesn't take it to heart though, he knows how determined Castiel is to get rid of the mark and take Dean back to the 21st century.

Still, it doesn't remove his distaste of Prometheus drooling after his Cas. _His Cas._

“That snarky bastard wants to eat you alive and I’m only suppose to watch and suck it up?”

“He’s not tried anything with me, Dean.”

“Yeah? And what do you call those times he fucks your face with his octopus’ lips?”

“It’s a _kiss._ Not fuck.” Cas gives Dean a reproachful look from the corner of his eyes and snatches the hunter’s hand swinging beside him. He firmly grips the man close. “And he shall kiss me no more. You know I’ve made that perfectly clear.”

“Huh… and he still flirts with you a lot. You should stop being nice to him. If he’s any decent, he should be stepping back, then again your fault for being perfect.”

“I’m not.”

“Gripped him tight and raised him from perdition, huh?” Dean smirks, voice lacing with sarcasm as he pulls Cas back and their shoulders brush. “Do you say those words to every hot looking guy you see in distress?”

“No, I don’t.” Cas pouts. “It’s a script… like a monologue transcribed in my wheels. We don’t use language much and when we do, it comes out the same. Like saying we are angels of the lord and you have a task to fulfill. I didn’t do it because I was attracted to him at first sight, Dean.”

Dean smiles smugly and wraps an arm around Cas shoulder as they walk along the market line and people begin to grow in number.

“Were you attracted to me at first sight?”

The silence that falls between Dean makes Dean glance at his angel and sees him in deep thought.

“It wasn’t love at first sight for you, huh?”

“I don’t think it was.”

Dean’s heart falls and crushes on the ground. “Huh…”

“I think it might have been your voice that had me fall over.” Castiel notes. Dean stops and pulls enough to look Cas straight in the eye.

“What was that?”

“I fell in love with your voice. Or your essence to be exact.” Cas says simply. “It isn’t a sight. You weren’t whole, Dean. When the order to save you from hell came, I lead a host of angel down to save you but we were unsure of where you are kept. Some of our number has diminished in the fight and I, for my part, had defeated quite a sum. I was already worrying of not being able to find you when I heard a voice. It’s… very sincere and… unlike any other thing I have heard from other souls. I desperately followed it because I know in my heart the one, we were supposed to save does not in anyway belong to hell. If the plan for you was to be Michael’s vessel then you should be the righteous man that you are. The voice, your voice is whole. Pleading for your brother, warm and loving... Then I saw you. The brightest soul in hell I have ever seen. In pieces yes, but unbarred. Broken yes, but still as bright and divine as any angels I have ever seen. You are special, Dean. I fell in love with you not by sight. I felt you. I loved you alone from that. The good looks of the vessel just come second. I love your soul, Dean. Why do you think I claimed it?”

Dean wheezes and kisses Cas on the cheek.

“You just know how to sweet-talk, do you?”

“I don’t know about sweet-talk, but I can always shed light to how perfect you are, Dean.”

“Aww, shucks, you’re really growing on me… but this claiming thing, it isn’t… did you claim Prometheus too?”

“Of course not.” Cas blinks at Dean, “Claiming doesn’t always… angels don’t often claim souls, Dean. We are barred from doing it unless it is absolutely necessary. Everyone in the garrison understands I had to do so in order to let hell know you are mine and I will take you, otherwise they would have pulled you back. A soul from hell is cleansed with touch from an angel. You have been purified the moment I laid my hands on you.”

Dean pulls Cas on a corner between two large buildings and pins him on the wall.

Cas looks up at him in wonder, question filling his goddamn baby blue eyes.

“Cas…” he inhales and brushes his lips on the angel’s lips. He pulls up, face of guilt and Cas quickly cups his face.

“Dean…?”

“I uh… they… the angels told me before… the moment you laid hands on me you were corrupted… that’s why you fell the way you did… that’s why…” he looks down. He hasn’t told anyone about this, because he was sure everyone knew—from the angels who keeps bringing it on his plate every second they got, especially those who admire their Castiel, their warrior, their leader. Sam who is equally grateful as him that Cas is their best friend also knows its Dean’s fault that Cas has fallen, even Crowley insisted Cas is so in love with him that Dean actually believes him.

“Dean.” Cas strong voice calls him back, forcing him to look in his eyes. Dean did because he loves looking deep in Castiel’s bright blue. “You know that’s not true.”

Dean only reaches for Cas’ palm around his face and nuzzles to his touch. Cas’ eyes widen.

“Dean—you—Dean, this isn’t—” Cas stammers and Dean nearly grins at the angel’s indignant appearance he cannot help but lounge a kiss on his lips, catching his mouth open and licking inside. Breath taking as it is, they share a noisy kiss, Dean pushing Cas on the wall gently, pulling on his lower lip, feeling the plum shape and kisses more.

“Dean—” Cas presses his chest a little.

“I know,” Dean kisses Cas corner of lips. “I know what you’ll say. I know you’d choose me again and again, Cas… and I don’t know what I ever did to deserve taking an angel from heaven.”

“You didn’t take me from heaven, Dean. But I don’t know what I ever did to be the one privilege enough to claim you.”

“You’re the only one allowed to.” Dean sucks Cas mouth with reverence, pressing him more without leaving any space in their bodies. Cas responds with much passion, holding Dean’s neck close to his and kissing him dirty, their necks craning on both sides. Dean laughs as he slips his hand on Cas’ hair, pulling him deeper and sealed his chapped lips with a kiss.

Dean slips out of the small alley with Castiel in tow, looking very smug and happy. After him, holding his hand came Cas whose hair is a nest of mess but he doesn’t seem to realize. This is the first thing that Prometheus sees when they arrive back in the villa, Dean smirking at him proudly while Cas tilts his head at the forbidding aura Prometheus is emitting.

He will kiss Cas in front of Prometheus if the Titan doesn’t stop looking at his angel like that.

“Castiel, you… found him.”

Dean arches an eyebrow feeling dejavu all over again.

“Of course, I always do.” Cas straightens and glances at Dean in satisfaction.

“The way he keeps on disappearing makes me think that one day he’ll just _pop_ and truly be gone without a trace forever.”

Dean feels the pressure on Castiel’s hand as the angel automatically holds his hand like Prometheus’ words alone will make him pop out of picture.

“That is not a nice thing to say.” The angel grumbles. “I will never let him out of my sight again.”

Prometheus doesn’t say a thing and turns to Dean instead.

“I keep telling you Saturnalia street may be all bright and might, but it is still dangerous.”

“Yeah, thanks for worrying for a second. This Saturnalia thing is getting into me.”

“True. But Saturnalia fools no one, it seems.”

Dean stares Prometheus in the eye, his sky blue eyes glinting with meaning that Dean understood. He blinks and grounds his feet, feeling slightly burned. Prometheus raises an eyebrow.

“Something wrong?”

“No.”

“Dean?” Castiel is also staring at him but Dean presses a smile.

“I’m uh… tired… can we go back in the room?”

Cas looks at him questioningly but Dean slightly shakes his head.

“Of course.”

“Castiel, if I can have a word? And since Dean is going to rest, I’m sure he doesn’t mind a catching up between friends. Do you Dean? Unless of course he fears getting lost in the villa.”

Dean shoots Prometheus a murderous look. Castiel glances up at the Titan with equal disdain.

“Stop provoking, Dean, Prometheus. He is… tired. Dean?”

For a second, Dean clutches possessively on Cas’ wrist, his other hand on the angel’s lapel. Castiel sees his frantic eyes and blinks in confusion but then Dean catches himself and only presses a chaste kiss on Cas lips. Cas startles a second when Dean lets him go and begins walking in the direction of his room. He assumes Cas must’ve wanted to follow because he hears the Titan call the angel back twice. Dean sighs when no footstep of the angel came when he turns a corner. He stops a little, puts a hand on the belt pouch he got from the market and takes out a golden band with initials written on the underside. Dean smiles a little and wonders when he can pop the question when—

“A ring?”

Dean almost throws the ring in the air when Bacchus comes into view. Snarling, the hunter sheepishly returns the gold ring inside his pouch.

“None of your business.”

“So you plan to finally possess the angel?”

“I—uh… what?” Dean blinks and frowns at the same time. “What are you talking about?”

Bacchus walks closer and stops in front of the hunter. He gives Dean a weighing look before looking down at the pouch just on Dean’s hips.

“Well, it is natural. You are eternally in love with him and he has claimed you first. Nothing is wrong with wanting to also show the physical embodiment of your love. A ring is a significant symbol of ownership so I should congratulate you.”

Dean pauses, tongue on his cheek.

“Yeah, well I wanna make him mine.”

“I admire honesty, Decanus. Not all men of your disposition would take this rituals seriously. You know they do practice polygamy here.”

“Cas would never do that.” Dean frowns at the demigod who cocks an eyebrow at him.

“You really believe that? You saw the way he looks at Prometheus…?”

“Stop.” Dean glowers. Bacchus did and shrugs.

“I apologize. It is not my place to intrude, but as long as you are safe.” Bacchus begins looking relieve much to Dean’s liking.

“Yeah…” he clenches his jaw but decides it’s no place to brawl, “I uh… Cas found me. Anyway, Uh… are you busy the whole day?”

“Not that I remember,” Bacchus scratches his chin, eyes narrowing, “there are things I needed to finish by the kitchen since it’s two days to go before the end of Saturnalia. Why do you ask?”

“I uh… wanted to talk to you about something… you know, when you’re not occupied with anything else?”

Bacchus gives him an interested look to which Dean shakes his head. Bacchus sighs dramatically as they walk together.

“You want me to get into trouble when Castiel is already watching my every movement around you? And may I remind you how exact his meaning is with a simple intent glare almost as if he wants to burn me on the space I take?"

Dean flushes and rolls his eyes. “It’s fine. He’s with Prometheus.” surprisingly, that doesn't make Dean feel insecure at all. So many rounds of serious sex can do that. He knows he's the one Castiel wants. He's not sure about Castiel liking him with Bacchus though. Up at this point, it feels as though Castiel's eyes is following them.

Bacchus gives him a side look.

“Where is this confidence coming from? You... oh, I know. I must've been a wild night. I am jealous that he gets to see you on bed-- you must be very beautiful."

"Hey." Dean scowls, stepping a little away from the demigod who's obviously leering at him openly, but that which not making him comfortable. "Stop the harassment and listen. I want to ask you something."

"Depends. Do I get to touch you—?”

“Shut up and keep your hands to yourself, buddy, I’m quite happy with the current pair I have. But can you come?"

"Take me where you want. Should I bring wine?”

Dean hesitates. Wine doesn't sound bad and he wouldn't be drinking too much anyway.

“Do your thing. See you in ten minutes?”

“I was under the impression I am the one to set the time. Lucky for you I just made myself available.”

“That’s great, then uh… yeah, see you.” Dean hurries away with a nod, determined to find the truth about his captivity. He crosses the stars and pushes open on the only door in the whole villa that actually registers as somewhere ‘familiar’ but never safe.

* * *

True to his words, Bacchus came ten minutes on time carrying a bottle of what looked like rum. Dean has already washed himself and is sitting quietly by the reclining chair opposite the fireside where Bacchus greets him. Dean points at the adjacent chair which the demigod obediently took.

“I apologize for my carelessness, I forgot to ask how you’ve been after the short escapade. It must have been very daunting.”

“Not really.” Dean frowns, sitting with elbows on his knees and leaning down. “In my line of work, the enemies getting the upper hand is a common thing. Me and my brother usually ends tied and tortured, but yeah we kinda survived by sheer skills and luck. Plus, there’s always an angel a prayer away so yeah, life’s good.”

“Have you ever thought about praying to the Castiel of this time?”

“I’ve been told that’s quite difficult. And Cas himself says he is quite sure the current him at this stage is dangerous and will not see reason. And he doesn’t remember any of this.”

“Yes, but it doesn’t mean you can’t change it.”

Dean raises an eyebrow at the demigod. Then making a point of clasping his hand together, he nods and presses his lips.

“So… how long have you been serving your Titan master?”

Bacchus narrows his eyes good-naturedly at Dean.

“You invited me here to speak about… Prometheus?”

Dean shrugs. “Long overdue, don’t you think? I mean, you act cool and all, but every time dear old Prom King hits on my angel, you get all gluey to me, I mean, come one. I don’t need to be an expert to know what you’re up to, so spill. You like Prometheus like how long?”

Bacchus chuckles and reaches for the wine and pours one cup to Dean and himself. He hands one to the hunter who took it with a grateful nod.

“It is not a question of liking, but of loyalty. I do not speak much about our relationship for there is nothing so special… I have stuck with him ever since… I assume you have heard of the Great Fire he stole from Olympus? That is your purpose here, is it not?”

Dean quirks his eyebrows and drinks his cup, eyes not leaving Bacchus. This should be interesting.

“Well, there is more story to tell behind it.” Bacchus gives Dean a secret smile the hunter willingly returns to prompt the tale, “For one, Prometheus do think of humans as interesting creation and had indeed assisted them with Fire. I helped him orchestrate the distraction in Olympus. The gods love to party and celebrate and I for my part had given them enough supply of their revered wine. And has extended to the guards of Olympus. Prometheus walked out of Olympus, Fire at hand, with ease and everyone none the wiser.”

Dean stares at Bacchus wide eyed and in awe.

“You helped… you….”

“When he was captured by Zeus, Prometheus never mentioned my involvement and for that I owed him. I wanted to save him from the mountain as well, but the opportunity never came. Zeus has always been on watch of me. From then I have been a faithful ally to Prometheus. Rome is only one of our termini during the four months of Cere’s grief—”

“Yeah, alright, hang on. Speak Latin, I don’t speak gods, I don’t have my fucking books to interpret.”

“Ceres… is… one of the deities of spring. Her daughter has to live in the Underworld for four months where Ceres grieves her and turns of spring to winter. If that is what you mean by interpretation.”

Dean puts the cup down and crosses his arms.

“Okay. So you guys go away after these four months of winter?”

Bacchus nods. “Not necessarily. We are still unwelcome in Olympus and I for my part serves Prometheus until well… but why do you ask of our alliance?”

“Nothing.” Dean shifts on the chair. Bacchus narrows his eyes and puts his cup down.

“I do not believe you are a person to ask out of nothing, Dean.”

“Depends if you’re going to get mad over it, but then it’s too late not to be suspicious so if you want to be on the defense of your master, so be it.” Dean frowns. “You think he’s capable of uh… you know, underhand game like having me kidnapped and sent to a slave market?”

Bacchus’ expression is unreadable for a moment. Then he turns cold and Dean thinks he’s lost the god of wine’s favor. He will miss the wine, but he will grab Cas on one wrong answer—

“You think Prometheus is the one responsible for your abduction?”

“I’m saying he is.”

Bacchus smirks. “What makes you say so?”

“You tell me, you know him. Has he shown any traits of being a psychopath because of jealousy?”

“Psyche… huh.” Bacchus deeply frowns. “Prometheus is capable of anything once he has set his mind to it. Castiel whom he has been in love with for years but unable to take hold because the current angel of this time has no shred of sympathy… I can see why he can be driven to do such. Your Castiel… the one you changed so much has shreds of all humanity that Prometheus has been longing for. It is no wonder he is still trying to woo him despite your current relationship. Prometheus is at the end of his choices and today must be his last attempt to take him. But you are accusing him of madness.”

Dean stands and takes Bacchus by the lapel of his robes, eyes flashing dangerously.

“What did you say? What last attempt?”

Bacchus’ expression never changed. “It is as you heard.”

Dean’s eyes rounded and before he can register what he is doing, he has thrown Bacchus on the couch and leapt out of the room. Anger courses in him. He shouldn’t have left Cas with Prometheus. He knew something like this would happen—he knew Cas—_shit! _Why doesn’t he listen to his own gut feeling when it comes to Cas? The number of times he has failed the angel because he hesitates and twice thinks before acting on his friend’s behalf? How many times must he tell himself that just because Cas is an angel, he can take care of himself!? It happened the first time Cas sacrificed himself taking on five angels when they tried to save Adam! It happened again when Cas takes on Sam’s insanity! _Because he thought Cas could handle it, being an angel and all that crap! _It did not stop when Cas told him he will fix heaven and then the angels fell! Cas can take care of himself crap has spiraled down for him! And then there was that time when he became human and he isn’t an angel and how the fuck did Dean even think the angel can take care of himself!? _He fucking sent him out of the Bunker!_

And then the last trip was saying yes to Lucifer… Dean crunches his teeth as he whirled on the corridor, not really knowing where to go. He remembers Prometheus telling Cas about how their room are supposed to be on the other wing of the villa. How Cas refused because he doesn’t want to leave Dean on his own. Cas never wavers when it comes to him, how come Dean can’t do the same?

And now what could be happening to Cas—_dammit! He shouldn’t have let him go! _

On his anger, he nearly collided with another body when he turns the last corner and come face to face with Castiel. Both hunter and angel halt with eyes wide, but Dean’s surprise quickly turns to defeat when he sees Castiel’s face damp with tears.

_“Cas!”_

“Dean.” Cas’ deep voice sounded so relieved when Dean cups his face and wipes his tears away.

“What the fuck happened?”

But the angel refuses to answer and buries his face on Dean’s neck. The hunter freezes for a second, before embracing Castiel tight. He has seen the blood from Cas’ chapped lips that has healed on the way. But it was clear as daylight, Cas lips had bled.

“Cas…” his voice is broken but Cas never replies. “Cas, talk to me…”

_“Castiel!”_

Dean’s eyes only see red when Prometheus comes striding from the end of the corridor looking upset at the beginning, but his jaw sets when he sees Dean. The hunter gently untangles Cas’ arms around his neck and makes his way towards Prometheus with gait of a hunter ready to pounce.

“Dean—” Castiel calls him back sounding strained but Dean has had enough.

_“You son of a bitch!” _Dean growls, swinging his right fist—which Prometheus single handedly blocked with his hand, a cold look on his face.

“You seem to forget your place, human. I am Prometheus, one of the gods. You should be bowing before me.” He thunders. Dean hears Cas’ angry voice full of warning from behind him but _fuck, this bitch is asking for it—_

_“Yeah! Well, joke’s on you—I’m Dean Fucking Winchester!”_ Dean knocks his head straight on Prometheus’ nose—whirled at the collision but sensible enough to land a kick solidly on the Titan’s stomach. Prometheus gives a grunt and steps backwards, much to Dean’s satisfaction.

Arms wrap around Dean’s middle and around his shoulder. Castiel holds him still.

“Dean, _no!_”

But Dean’s eyes are still shooting daggers at Prometheus.

“You lay off Cas, you hear? You _fucking leave him alone or I swear you’ll join the list of gods and other fucked up bastards that messed with me and did not come back from their graves!”_

He doesn’t wait for Prometheus to answer and snatches Castiel’s wrist.

“Let’s go.” He says darkly. “We’re getting out of this place.”

“Dean—” Cas sounds stricken for some reason.

“You don’t say no Cas, or I’ll swear.” Dean glares at him and he is glad Castiel complies quietly as he drags him along the corridor. He doesn’t hear Prometheus follow, doesn’t see much on the way but feels the angel’s presence right behind him. Anger pumps in his veins as he instinctively draws Cas away from the cause of the angel’s discomfort. He knows without asking what must’ve occurred, and if they didn’t need Prometheus for the fire, Dean swears he could have done more than smack him. Blindly leading the way to their room, Dean pulls Castiel to their now empty room and shut it close. Bacchus is no longer around where he left him. He whirls around Cas who only watches him with a guilty expression.

“Dean—”

“We need to get out of here.” He puts hands on his waist as they stand in the middle of the room, then runs them on his hair feeling vexed. “That bastard is going nowhere near you again, y’hear? We can wait for the fire to come up somewhere else, but we’re not staying another second in this place.” He agitatedly shifts and paces, feeling an itch he could not scratch. _Fuck._ “We’re out!”

“Dean… calm down.”

“Calm down?! That fucker hurt you! He’ll pay next time—when we don’t need anything from him I will gank him! _I swear!” _he bristles. He notices the tightness of his grip on the angel's hand, but he doesn't let go. The wild instinct to take Cas faraway is overwhelming him. Becoming him. Someone who hurts Castiel has to pay. Dean wants to go get his gun and explode Prometheus' head for all the good it can do him. But Castiel is staring at him, trying to read him. It's the angel who initiates to calm. Dean knows because Cas is touching his cheek gently.

"Dean...it's. okay...”

“We don’t owe anything here, we can disappear right the fucking now then come back on the given time, Cas—”

“Okay, Dean.”

_“I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch!”_

“Dean.”

_“What?” _He grinds his teeth and flashes an angry look at the angel.

Cas suddenly reaches forward to his right hand and wraps his knuckles with his palm. Dean suddenly feels a lazy fold of something warm slink up to his skin and realizes his knuckles are scratched to the skin, his wrist probably even sprained when he tried to punch a Titan. Cas’ grace envelops him and the pain disappears. The angel is still looking at him intently when he reaches another palm to Dean’s cheeks and heals whatever is making the hunter’s head hurt. The head collision with a god must’ve damage something in his head because Cas looks worried. Dean doesn’t feel the pain in his anger, but he feels something itchy goes away the instant Cas touches him. Then Cas pulls him into a soft kiss on the lips. Soft at first. Then greedy.

Dean growls and pulls Cas' lower back and laps on his mouth, open and wet. He licks Cas' mouth when the angel pulls away, but stops at the way Castiel is watching him,

“Stop hurting yourself for me, Dean.” The angel suddenly pleads, hands wrapping around Dean’s waist and sighing on his neck. Dean hugs him in turn, kissing Cas’ cheek and holding the angel close.

“You’re the one who got hurt and you’re still worried bout’ me?”

“I’m fine.”

“Fine, my ass.” He still sees red upon noticing the blood on his lips and walks to the angel, hands reaching up to wipe it away from his soft skin. Cas leans on his touch. “Let’s get out of here, Cas? Okay? Nothing here is worth this. Not worth of you getting hit on. I should burn this place to the ground.”

“Dean.”

“Shoulda done that long time ago.” Castiel chuckles and his tiny smile has got Dean sighing heavily. He pulls the angel close, like he's the only support in this world and tucks his head on the angel's neck. Cas just lets him and they stay that way in the dark. "Should've let me finish him, Cas... let me... I want to kill him."

"It was my fault for being vulnerable." Cas whispers on his ears and Dean pulls away to lookin him in the eyes. He caresses Cas' cheek with the back of his fingers, meeting the angel's big blue eyes, searching.

"What happened?"

"I... he told me Ares is drawing closer."

Dean's eyes widens. "The hell's that mean?"

Castiel cups Dean's cheeks, eyes swimming and wet. "I don't know. It's either he is really drawing closer, Dean... or." the angel gulps.

Dean takes it, eyes unblinking. Then the words are out of his mouth. "He thinks Ares or Mars... the war god is growing on me?"

"Something like." Cas nods, making Dean's face feel so small when he rubs his cheekbones. "Prometheus told me the only thing that can probably save you from his control is... giving you to him. You'll live that way, but I couldn't... I was so lost when Prometheus took advantage and-"

"That fuckhole!" Dean clenches his fists, but Castiel is tugging on his attention back.

"Please, Dean... right now it doesn't matter-" 

"Don't fucking tell me it doesn't Cas!"

Castiel embraces him tight that surprises Dean. Of all the moments, this embrace is much meaningful. Castiel just throws himself on Dean, unsupported and unhesitating. The lump of anger doesn't disappear, but it made way for the angel's feelings. Castiel needs Dean's reassurances. Dean can give that. Because it's not Prometheus that's actually making Castiel have that painful look.

It's Dean. Always Dean. The hunter crumbles inside. He locks the angel to his arms.

"Cas. What do I do to stop hurtin you?" he whispers, voice breaking.

Castiel shuffles on his arms and determinedly meets Dean's eyes. "No, Dean, it's not you- don't think this, please...."

"That's how it looks to me. Cas, I'm so sorry..."

"No..." Castiel shuts his eyes close. There's a long pause where he tries to get a hold of himself. Then he looks Dean in the eyes again. "I love you, Dean... I am so in love with you that I... I get weak every time I think something's wrong... something's about to happen... it's... I want to always keep you safe."

"I know. But you can't." Dean smiles sadly, leaning his forehead on Castiel. "Sorry, Cas."

"I can try. I won't give up." Cas tells him. Dean wants to believe him, but his doom is hanging on both of them like a guillotine. Castiel is breaking because of him. And all Dean wants is for Cas to stop hurting. So Dean did that thing that he knows can make him feel safe if he was on Castiel's feet.

So he kisses Castiel. He tells the angel._“I want you inside me.”_

_"Yes."_ Cas eagerly responds, shifting on Dean again and removing the little coverings their bodies have. "I'll take care of you, Dean."

"You always do, babe."

_"_I want you in me too. Just like this morning."

If that invitation doesn’t get into his dick quick, nothing will. Dean slams his mouth on Cas, kissing him dirty and sliding his hands-on Cas’ ass, lifting him up to his waist with Cas wrapping his legs around him. He carries Cas to the bed and drops them gently, his body pressing on top of the angel. He nudges on Cas’ hips, pushing his legs wide to accommodate him. He feels Cas’ hard length pressing to his torso and grinds his hips for some friction. Cas moans on the kiss and pulls Dean closer. Chess pressing, Dean slides a hand down Cas’ ass cheek and inserts a finger on his hole. Cas breathes heavily in the kiss. Dean presses another finger to loosen him.

“You’re sucking my finger.” Dean whispers when he nibbles on Cas’ ears.

Cas responds by arching his back, exposing much of his neck that Dean loves kissing. He sucks on the ample skin, leaving red marks on the pulse points, kissing around the sharp jaw that always screams of sexiness, before settling on the other side of the angel’s neck. Cas throat rumbles in pleasure when Dean goes for a third finger, flexing him wide.

“So tight.” Dean runs his teeth along the lump of the angel’s throat before licking down the middle of his chest. He growls when his lips met the soft tunic covering Cas’ body but then remembers this is the only thing that protected Cas from Prometheus’ hungry mouth. He grinds his teeth as the tunic actually left nothing for imagination and removes it easily down the angel’s shoulder. He hasn’t removed his own, but it’s hardly any block. He takes on Cas’ left nipple and sucks and nips on the bud like a baby having the first taste of nectar. Castiel gasps and moans beneath him. Dean runs his other hand on Cas’ cock and strokes him. He loves the weight of the angel’s groin in his hands. Loves as it twitches and releases its beads of precum Dean swipes with his thumb. He lets it run on Cas’ hard length. Dean grinds his hips, his own hard cock pressing on Cas’ thigh. Cas is hard against him. Dean licks down to his stomach, kissing every inch of his ripped abs before wrapping his mouth around the head of Cas’ throbbing dick. Dean moans in pleasure and sucks him out completely, pulling out only to make love to the limb.

_“I’m gonna make you cry till midnight for letting some fucktard kiss you.”_

_“I didn’t—” _Cas’ words are lost to Dean sucking him with abandon. He kisses Cas’ thigh and bites on the meat, pushing Cas’ legs wide open. He rubs his hands on the open legs, his tongue darting to Cas’ hole and lapping with a groan. Cas is so ready for him.

“Dean…” he hears his urge. Dean spreads his cheeks and continues to eat him. Cas calls his name again, almost thrashing above. “Dean…_please…”_

The hunter moves up, pushes Cas’ light form towards the headboard of the bed, kissing his mouth before kneeling up and holding the angel’s heels to spread his legs even more. The sight nearly makes Dean come. Cas is looking up at him with hooded lids, tunic disarranged on places looking completely debauched with legs open only for him to see. Dean sighs and holds his hard cock to Cas’ rim. Eyeing Cas, knowing Cas is watching, he pushes the head of his cock inside.

Cas presses his head back against the soft pillows while Dean bites his lips. Watching Cas is truly entertaining. Truly satisfying. He slips inside him till he bottoms, still watching Cas open his chapped lips and makes a breaking sound of pleasure. Dean eases a little out, not taking it complete, before thrusting forward to a point.

“Dean...” Cas pleads, “_harder.”_

Dean loses it because who can say no when Cas is so fucking hot and ready. He plunges forward, both groaning as he moves in and out, skin to skin burning at each thrust. Dean throws his head back in pleasure, picking his pacing faster and faster. Cas rumbles a groan, splays even wider with hands trembling on his side. Dean leans to him and catches his mouth, still pounding with every inch of power, digging deeper till he is hitting Cas’.

“Fuck.”

He wraps his arms on Cas’ waist, lifting him up again and changing their position with Cas now sitting on his lap. His dick digs deeper and Cas barely hangs on his shoulder. They kiss heavily. Castiel adjusts his hips, looking Dean in the eye as they nip on each other’s lips.

“Can you move?” Dean whispers, kissing Cas’ collar bone. Cas nods and moves his hips. Dean lets a groan on his ears. “Still fucking tight…_fuck yourself on me, Cas.”_

The angel obediently did and the sound they make fill the room, even the halls as Cas takes Dean whole and slams up and down to him. The throbbing of their length, the burn in their bodies, the tension builds up and soon… very soon they are coming. The hunter meets his every thrust that soon both are coming. Dean grabs Cas’ cock and pumps him in his orgasm.

_“Dean—!”_

Dean feels his hands fill with Cas’ come, shooting on his chest and he kisses Cas. Cas’ body shook the lasts and he wrap his arms around Dean’s neck, their lips hot. Both didn’t bother to separate with Dean’s length still twitching inside Cas. He hears a crack somewhere—

_“Of fuck—!”_ gasps a familiar voice.

_“Fuck yes, right? Of all the funky timing.”_

“What the fuck—” Dean takes Cas’ body and slams him down the bed, covering the angel protectively with his own as he looks at the foot of the bed where someone they know so well is now standing, grinning mischievously.

“Gabriel!” Cas calls in surprise while Dean’s eyes lingers on the tall brother of his now standing beside the archangel with his back on them looking tensed.

“Enjoying your Saturnalia?” Gabriel winks at Dean who immediately grabs the covers of the bed to wrap around him in Cas. He slips out of the angel and sits up, both truly surprised to see Gabriel smirking at them. With Sam. Dean yelps and throws covers across Cas.

_“You—you came!”_ Dean begins with a relieve feeling while Sam shakes his head.

“So did you.” Gabriel grins. Dean shuts his mouth while Cas squints somewhere around the blanket. Sam has turned his back at them looking embarrassed. Gabriel is still smirking. “Nice timing, if you’d like we can stil—a”

“Gabriel, enough—” Sam warns to the archangel. He doesn’t attempt to look at the naked fellows sharing the bed. “Guys—just guys put some clothes on, okay?”

Dean grunts and pulls his fallen tunic up his shoulder, bare legs flying at the edge of the bed. Cas struggles out of the covers and modestly did the same, pulling down his own clothes with his thighs. “Alright, we’re good.”

Sam turns around with Dean standing on the bed ready to embrace him.

_“Dude—no!” _the gawking and screaming of his tall younger brother has Dean laughing. He stops just in time and catches himself. He didn’t have to hear what Sam wanted to point out and looks down his body, covered yes, but obviously still hot of Cas. “Oh.”

“Told you, Sam. They are _fine._ More than fine. There was really no reason to worry when they got each other under _blankets_. Quite literally.” Gabriel goes on, crossing his arms as his eyes fall on Castiel.

“Shut up.” Sam says while Dean rolls his eyes.

“How did you guys find us?” Cas slides his legs at the edge of the bed. “Obviously we know you are going to do something to save us, but how? We figured you wouldn’t be able to cross this timeline because the Pantheons have blocked you.”

“Easy peasy, Sam here turned your library upside down to look for a powerful method for an archangel to bypass any Pantheon sigil. Turns out being an archangel is still a plus.”

“And we’re not doing it again.” Sam says with a frown of someone who made a choice with wins and losses. “Anyway, you two seems fine. _Finally.”_

Dean grins. He doesn’t bother explaining it. Sam seems to understand besides they don’t have much time to waste. Gabriel grins with him but Cas and Sam both says in unison—

_“Enough.”_

“Okay.” Sam goes on, looking Dean in the eyes. “Did you find the fire? Did you guys find Prometheus?”

“You’re living and standing in his villa, moron.” Dean bites, still unforgiving of the damnable Titan.

“What?”

“It’s exactly that.” Cas stands up now, “We found Prometheus.”

“And?” Gabriel prompts with a raised eyebrow. He looks to Dean, their light and savior at this moment. Because Dean has begun thinking he and Cas will be stuck here forever. He wants to jump at Sam. To embrace him, not planning to tell him how he thought they'd never see each other again.

Sam looks okay, healthy and the same. Whereas Dean... Sam catches his eyes and Dean grins. His brother starts rolling his eyes, but one thing-- Sam actually smiles warmly at him and it's enough for Dean to sigh in relief. It's Sam. Sam is safe. Sam is here. He doesn't need to worry because Sam... how he missed Sam.

“We found the fire too,” Cas nods, “It’s used by the Vestas but we cannot risk their lives for it. We had to wait for the rebirth of the Mithra to take it from him personally.”

Gabriel laughs. “Figures. Let me see, choosing to fight against a _god_ than endanger a couple of chicks? I knew you’d never stoop so low, but that’s another level of stupidity.”

“Shut up.” Dean snaps.

“What he says.” Cas growls.

“Prometheus should know you guys can never win against the Mithra though, what is that guy thinking? By the way, he didn’t get bendy with you, did he, Cassy?” Gabriel turns to look around as if expecting to see the Titan soon.

“No.” Cas replies. “And we’re not talking about it. Prometheus says the Mithra will at dawn on Saturn’s temple. All we have to do is kill him.” Sam and Dean exchanges looks to which Castiel shares an almost equal gravity when he tells the group, "I also have something to settle with Ares."

"God of War after his ass, I know." Gabriel crosses his arms looking thoughtful. "But you must've hit your head or something, Castiel, the Mithra can be stopped. It can never be killed. He's one of those immortals created at the beginning of time before any generations of these pagan gods. You can almost say he's one of those in the first generation. How else can darkness exist without creating light?"

“Prometheus said—” Castiel protests-

“Yeah?” Gabriel arches an eyebrow. Dean frowns.

“What?”

“That’s my own words—‘what’?. What’s Prometheus playing at? The Fire doesn’t appear or disappears. It stays where he left it contained that’s why it’s an eternal fire. It only shares. You think the fire would’ve disappeared the humans first used it? It can only be contained and spreads without losing its form. What the hell is that Titanic playing at?”

Dean and Cas exchanges looks.

“Well, we better confront him now and see what he’s up to, don’t we? Unless someone's gonna tell him to trust the guy who took punishment for every human kind, then okay, we wait for everything to unfold. But that won't be happening easily with you this way, Dean."

The hunter stiffens. Sam shoots him a look. "Why, what's happening?"

"Oh, I don't know." the archangel wiggles both eyebrows, "We don't fix it early, Dean, and your past is gonna be catching up with you. You think Ares doesn't know where you are? You think he can't sense you? Come on, now. He's only bidding his time."

"Hey!" Sam angrily puts a foot down, "What's this about?"

"Never mind, we're going after Prometheus," Dean glares at the smirking archangel. "I've been meaning to ice him anyway."

"You can't ice the savior of humanity, Dean."

"Then maybe we throw him on a rock and cause avalanche?" the older hunter raises an eyebrow for his brother to understand. Sam blinks at him, jaw dropping. Then he takes it. He better. Dean's not in the mood for any elaboration. His mind has been working furiously why Prometheus would even lie to them. Then he understands.

Fucking gets it. Castiel is watching him closely.

"Well, do what you guys like, but I've gotta say I'm surprised." Gabriel shrugs. "What is Prometheus up to?"

“Oh, I think I know what he’s up to.” Says Dean darkly with a look at Cas who squints at him in confusion. Gabriel seems to understand.

“Oh. A fight.”

“Let’s go.” Dean says, eyes flashing angrily as he leads the troupe out of the room.

But they never found Prometheus anywhere the villa. Nor Bacchus. Dean's got a bad feeling about that. He meets the others on the atrium, all frowning except the archangel.

"What's going on?" Dean growls, Castiel stepping rightly beside him silently. Sam is looking around the hall in awe. Dean suppresses the idea of telling him what it was like. There's proper place and time. Right now he has to focus on one dick who finally gets rat out.

"Well, obviously he must've sensed me and knows what I can tell you." Gabriel says, looking at the door casually, like there's nothing wrong in the world whatsoever. "So let's see... he ups his game and takes your prize under your noses?" he glances at the hunter and angel.

"The Vesta temple." Dean curses, smacking his face once and taking Castiel's hand. "Let's go!"

* * *

It's the Vestas temple all over again. In the same middle of the hall where the fire use to stand. The exact place Dean prevented Cas from taking, there stands Prometheus and he doesn’t look as harmless as before. He seems to have taken note of Gabriel’s presence and this made him narrow his eyes. The hall stretches before them.

“So. You figured it out.”

“Prometheus, let’s talk.” Cas says, stepping forward with Dean just right behind him.

“Now you want to talk?”

“Why did you lie? The Fire. You had it all along.” Cas’ features harden. Dean grits his teeth as he watches Prometheus arch his eyebrow at the angel and then raise his right palm.

From there _Fire _bursts beautifully it lit the entire hall. From its golden crystal casing, Dean still has to cover his eyes to what feels like a burst of energy and he feels himself melting. Cas grabs him and for some reason Dean feels it is safe to look again. He turns behind him to Sam to see that Gabriel is holding his brother’s shoulder. He looks fine. Dean hears the Titan speak again.

“So bright, isn’t it? So warm and attractive you want to make it yours.”

“I’ve seen someone brighter.” Cas says perfectly still, hands gripping on Dean’s arm tight.

Prometheus watches Castiel.

“From what you told me, this is the only thing you really need from this time, Castiel. And I can give it to you easily, but not without a price.”

“Fuck you!” Dean growls but Cas keeps him still. He knows without having to ask what Prometheus wants. He has been wanting it ever since he and Cas first steps in his house.

“What do you want?” Cas voice is calm.

_“You.”_

Dean sees it for what it is, an elaborate plan to get the angel. Like he'll fucking allow that without raising hell.


	17. If I cannot move heaven, I will raise Hell

** _ _ **

_ **Flectere si nequeo superos, acheronta moveabo ** _

* * *

It all happened fast like a terrible nightmare. One moment they are all in the hall of the temple, facing each other with Prometheus on his end, alone but looking powerful and not intimidated, the next moment they're all rushing away. Dean tries to remember, but it's probably the glow in his eyes that has the hunter curling his lips, and when the Titan finally says the obvious intention he's been scheming behind their back, Dean finds himself zeroing on the enemy.

No one takes Castiel from him. No one.

“No.” Dean makes a step forward but Castiel holds his shoulder tight. “You leave Cas alone!”

“Dean. Wait." Castiel sounds calm. He better be. Dean's beyond calm. He's seething. He's breaking every pumping vein in his head because right here before him is someone who wants to take Cas away. Someone who's all hell bent to separate them, to have the angel for his own selfish greed. Prometheus whom Dean has always liked as a man in the 21st century. Maybe he should tell the idiot he will have a future _in the future._ But his anger is overlapping with his mind.

Just like how his heart is always getting frantic when it comes on anything involving Castiel. No. He wants to get Cas as far as he could. Wants to make sure Castiel stays with him. He doesn't give fuck about anyone. He will get the fire. He will bring Cas back with him and grips on Sam. Because Sam will be the one to take them from this hell. He is leaving that to Sam.

Dean can't secure their safety the way he is right now so he's got to rely on Sam. All Dean can do is to make sure Castiel stays with him. That he also stays for Cas. It's like their at the brink of a steep cliff, getting pushed on the edge slowly. Dean unconsciously reaches for Cas' hand. Cas takes it and holds Dean firm. In place. The ringlet rubbing on Dean's skin.

Prometheus’ blue eyes flickered towards Dean coldly. He raises his right hand and flicks. Everything darkens because there in his hand is the _Fire_ dancing bright, brighter than anything. Dean squints his eyes. Castiel doesn't even flinch while Sam hisses. It’s Gabriel who speaks next however.

“Aren’t you taking this overboard, little sprout? All we ask is the Fire you already gave to humanity hundreds of years ago without batting your long eyelashes. Now you wanna trade it with a living being? How far gone are you?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” Prometheus replies darkly, eyes boring on Castiel, “I have waited long enough for Castiel to walk this earth again. Beings like us cannot enter your heaven and he refused to bow down to my proposal. You will be surprised how far _rejection _can change a creature, Gabriel. This Castiel—” he nods at Cas, “is so much different… so much more like he has been freed from his shackles and I want—”

“No. Prometheus.” Castiel retorts, Dean sliding next to him on pure instinct. “The way I am, I still refuse your proposal. I have told you. I am already spoken for.”

Dean throws a contemptuous look at the Titan but deep inside him, his heart is swelling. To be chosen by Cas at this point, in front of their brothers, is making him flush, but overly happy at the same time. He brushes his shoulder next to Cas, not leaving his side. The Titan glowers at the angel, then lifts his chin up.

“The way we look at this matter at the moment doesn’t really give you any other options. You need this Fire more than I do, Castiel. And this temple will crumble to pieces before I hand it to you. In a snap of my finger I can send this away and nothing here will change. _Winter_ has come. Warmth is unnecessary until the rise of the real sun. And I can keep this forever. Return this to my father, Zeus, even lose it in the Underworld if I mean to. Unless you stay. I will give this up if you stay with me, Castiel.”

“Or,” Gabriel raises his own finger, “We can make this temple crumble, _dickwad.”_

Prometheus glowers and flicks his hand. The Fire disappeared. Dean’s eyes widen and Sam panics, looking around at his companions and brother. Both Castiel and Gabriel remain expressionless and calm despite the threat.

“Where did you send it?” Castiel asks quietly. Dean wonders if the angels can still sense the Fire burning somewhere.

“To someone I wholly trust. But it will be your choice, Castiel. Time is running. Despite Gabriel being able to twist time on his own, the fact that he is fast draining his grace just to remain standing on equal footing with me when this land is rejecting him, I do not think you stand a chance against me at all.”

“What?” Dean glances at Gabriel who raises both eyebrows.

“You underestimate me too much, little sprout.” His eyes glinted dangerously, the only time Dean sees him with that look is when faced with his brother, Lucifer, time and again.

Castiel gives the archangel and side glance and the way his eyes look worried for the first time makes Dean’s eyes round.

“Gabe…” the angel begins.

“You jackass babies worried for me? You know who I am? I can keep this up.” Gabriel retorts, and just to show off, his body begins to emit power and glows brightly with angelic grace, the room brightens with shadows of his full wings. Prometheus raises his chin while Dean exchanges look at Sam. One look of horror on Sam’s has Dean believing the internal arrangement of going in the Ancient Time with a plus one—and returning with additional two more looks dauntingly impossible. Whatever spell they used to get there is and will fry an archangel’s grace up.

“Gabriel—” Sam says in warning. Gabriel’s eyes stop glowing and the whole room darkens yet again when he pulls. Prometheus only smirks when Gabriel staggers a little but kept on his feet with an angry look at the Titan’s direction.

“You maybe able to fight me, Gabriel. But the aftermath will surely leave you weak. Can you take the rest of your pack back where you come from? And the Pantheons… that surge of energy will have them realize you are here. They will come. Are you sure you can keep that grace up and return to your timeline?”

Silence meets his words and it only makes Prometheus smile even more. He looks back at Castiel and offers a hand.

“I stand by what I said. You can have a fire, but in exchange, you will remain with me, Castiel.”

“_He will stay with me_.” Dean growls threateningly as Castiel stands still.

“Will you help them get out safely?” Cas says after a beat.

“Dammit, Cas!” Dean grabs Castiel full in the arm and holds him back, green eyes full of fire, “No, you will not stay here! No sacrifices! Fire or no fire, _you’re not going with him! Not anywhere! Not without me!”_

“Dean.” Castiel’s blue eyes stares straight into Dean’s soul. “You forget what we came here for. We want to save the world. Focus on that. I can take care of myself.”

Dean opens his mouth but no words came out. He looks deep in Cas’ eyes, hurt and in anguish. For a second a flash of pain crossed the blue eyes too, only to melt into a wall until Dean can see no uncertainty there but determination. The man begins shaking his head but a slight groan in Gabriel’s direction makes him tear away his eyes from his angel.

“Shit… shouldn’t have done that…” Gabriel whispers with a clutch on his trembling hand.

“I told you we can’t waste your grace!” Sam hisses, helping him keep on his feet with an arm.

“Gabriel.” Castiel’s authoritative leader of the garrison’s voice takes over that shakes something out of Dean. Gabriel and Cas exchanges looks and the seraph nods. Gabriel makes an annoyed clacking sound with his tongue and then snaps his fingers. Dean momentarily loses footing and finds himself standing beside Gabriel, the archangel with a firm grip on his shoulder. On his other side stood Sam looking as surprised as Dean did.

But Cas is standing a foot in front of Prometheus, his face set and final.

“Now. The Fire.”

“Cas!” Dean tries to wiggle out of Gabriel’s grip but the archangel doesn’t let go. “_CAS!”_

Prometheus nods and snaps his fingers too. A bright glow appears on Dean’s right side and looking there, he finds Sam holding the Fire on his bare hands. Gabriel turns to Castiel watching them who nods at him again. His eyes fall on Dean whose giving him a murderous look.

“Castiel, don’t you dare.” He growls, nearly ripping his flesh from the archangel’s tight grip. Castiel momentarily looks a little defeated, his steel blue eyes turning from cold to soft when he looks at Dean.

“I'm sorry, Dean. For not keeping my promise. I’ll come back to you. I always do.”

Dean's mouth fell open. Cas is saying goodbye. Behind him Prometheus smiles triumphantly with a hand reaching towards the angel possessively. Dean is enraged but then Gabriel suddenly shouts out of nowhere—and the reason is clear—silhouettes of unknown beings begin surrounding them—_The Pantheons have arrived. _Arrows come darting out of nowhere and fuck knows which among the deities who loves shooting—Gabriel staggers again and with a flick— zaps them without another word.

The whole world collapsed and from the hue of velvet sky came the walls of the bunker. Gabriel fell on the floor coughing blood. Sam immediately kneels beside him in horror as the archangel fell on the bunker’s floor, panic flooding his eyes on the archangel but firm grip on the gold stone glowing in his palms.

"Gabriel! Dean! Dean hold this!"

Sam gulps as he saw blood everywhere on the floor. There was no way the archangel could make any trip to save Cas soon.

Breathing hard, Sam is ready to hand the gold stone to his brother but no helping hands came. Sam quickly looks around, worried that Dean may have been too upset about Cas. This isn’t the first time his brother has lost the angel, but the effects are always magnified and obviously destructive. Dean loves Cas so much after all.

But he needs his brother’s help.

“Dean!”

Only to see that there is no one else there but him and Gabriel. Sam’s mouth fell.

* * *

Just before any of the Pantheons can come around, Prometheus' greedy hand reaches toward Castiel who looks back at him fiercely. But not a second next and the angel is jerked far away from the Titan by a very strong grip. Castiel snaps his head back to find himself staring at Dean's determined green eyes.

“Dean!” Cas’ voice is outraged— _“why are you—!”_

"Not gonna happen, cheesecake." Dean murmurs, pulling Cas several feet away. Prometheus snarls and with a shake of his hand, a long spear appears. Both Cas and Dean turn in his direction but before Cas can register anything else, Dean is already dragging him on his feet to cover from the angry Titan.

The walls crack after their every turn as the Titan begin raining them with attack. Dean pulls Cas into a halt on the other side of the wall, grinning despite the situation. Cas looks morbidly angry at him.

“What are you doing here, Dean?!”

“Staying!” Dean growls.

“Where’s Gabriel!”

“Back in out time, I dunno—but I’m not leaving your sacrificial ass here, y’hear? You asked me for a gift. I'm taking you now." Dean shouts as the wall breaks behind them and Cas is the only dragging Dean up some stone staircases, leading to top floor of the temple. "I told you. I'm not gonna let you go."

Cas hesitates in the middle of the flight, but drags Dean forward. They can hear shouts from below, from the group of Pantheons and then Prometheus shouting back. The two reaches the top of the temple and before long Dean’s mouth crashes to Castiel who pulls him eagerly into one.

Dean grins in the middle of Cas too hot lips biting and pulling on his mouth. He cards his fingers behind the angel’s head, pulling him up close till Cas is pushing him on the wall.

“Hey,” Dean pants when distractedly able to push the angel for a second. “I don’t mind the fucking, but can we escape first? I want to make sure you’re safe.”

“That’s my job.” Cas eyes lingers on Dean’s lips and Dean just loves when Cas kisses him again, seemingly unable to control himself. “You are always so stupid, Dean. You don’t listen to me.” He growls and kisses the hunter more, “I don’t know what and how… _What should I do with you?”_

“Break my fantasy,” Dean grins, sliding hands on Cas’ waists and for a moment, everything felt okay. “Take me, Cas. But let’s get the hell out of here. I can’t relax when there’s a Titan after you.”

“I’ll rip him apart if he tears us away.” Cas promises looking grim. “I won’t be separated with you, not anymore.”

Dean chuckles and Cas gives him a long, wet kiss before he pulls him and going directly to the lone window as tall as a five-foot man by the wall. Dean’s eyes widen when Cas showed no sign of stopping. Instead the angel wraps a hand on his waist and then jumps out—

Dean feels the thrill of the sharp air on his face, feels Cas’ protective arms around him. There’s a gentle jerk as they landed on the ground, the sky dark in the middle of twilight. There are plenty of eyewitness here and there but the way they sway as they walk or turn a glance from their slumber or even notice them at all while in the middle of heated intercourse with their partners, makes Dean doubt they really understand that two men just landed on their wake.

One Roman shakes his head with a bottle at hand and continued walking anyway.

Castiel untangles his arm from Dean looking back at the temple, tensing.

“What?” Dean blinks nervously as they hear loud explosions from inside the temple. Then a prickle on the hunter’s skin has him realize something bad is going to happen. Cas feels it too as he slowly looks up at the sky. Dean did the same. To his horror, he finds a chasm of clouds in the middle of the night sky, forbidding and dangerous.

“Cas—” he breathes out, “What’s—”

“The gods…” Castiel murmurs, blue eyes rounding, “they’re angry… the temple is being desecrated. Dean, I think…” before Cas can finish his words, a loud crumble from the sky that could be heard across Rome has Dean gritting his teeth and slamming his hands on his ears. He feels the air tense, feels the hair on his skin stands. Electricity seems to cackle everywhere and then Cas turns to him looking alarmed.

_“DEAN!”_

The angel slams a hand on the hunter who tumbles backwards at the force, shooting straight to the nearest empty tent. Dean could not hear the noise he makes as the sky breaks apart into a loud explosion of thunder and then lightning strikes down the temple. He sees Castiel disappear in the light, sees the whole temple explode as Dean’s back hit the tent—

_And he knows no more._

* * *

When Dean comes into, there’s a heavy lump on his forehead and his ears are crackling of static he even wonders if he’s become an angel. The thought has his eyes shooting open as he remembers—_Saturnalia, the Fire, Gabriel and Sam taking it and Cas. _With hollowed feeling how Cas disappears from thin air like a banishing sigil has been carved by the sky itself—

_Cas!_

He bolts up from the wood he was lying down to, groaning at shocking pain that hit his body the moment he did. His sight darkens for a moment, before he smacks it down his palm. He couldn’t clearly see where he was, but surely it isn’t heaven.

“Take it easy, Dean. Getting a direct hit with that kind of lightning and you still live and breathe makes me want to believe you really are _Death_ itself. Here take this.”

Dean blinks hard and stares up. A distorted form appears to be walking towards him from a distance, then stays hazy white and black in front of him. The voice is familiar though. Dean takes what is given to him, a cup. He drinks the contents eagerly before spitting it all out and coughing with his chest burning at each punch of his itchy throat.

“I didn’t say it was wine.” Comes the amuse voice of Bacchus again.

Dean thanks him through gritted teeth and glares at the bright torch light assaulting his sensitive eyes. He closes them again and curls on his body, but he’s already moving with legs hanging at the edge of the wooden bed. When he looks up, he glares at everything when he finally begins to see where he is. It was a small room with gray walls. Unpainted walls. A bed and tables then Bacchus sitting in front of him on a small stool. Unlike the lavish house of the Titan, this doesn’t seem to belong to the villa. It must’ve been one of the insula in the market. Dean gapes.

“Where am I? What happened? Where’s Cas!?”

“Good, you still have recollection of who you are. For a moment, I thought I could keep you.”

Dean shoots Bacchus a look. It is unclear if the demigod is joking or not but it does earn a frown from the hunter.

“You son of a bitch… you’re a part of this, aren’t you? What am I now, a prisoner? If I was feelin any betters…” he mutters forbiddingly. “_You’re dead.”_

Bacchus’ expression did not change. “Why would you threaten me, Dean?”

“You work for him…” Dean hisses, trying to move forward to feel another jolting pain on his side. He clutches it and throws another withering look at the demigod. “You work for that damn god!” he clamps his mouth, too angry to speak.

Bacchus observes him for a moment, before inclining his head.

“Yes, and no… but only just.”

His eyes glowed and Dean is taken by surprise to see Bacchus’ shadow tower all others before him—in the shape of a gigantic being holding out a long spear. Dean’s eyes widened.

“You.”

Bacchus is back to himself with a small smile, eyes lingering on the hunter.

“Yes. It is I. Ares himself.”

Dean glowers, green eyes glinting murderously. “You son of a bitch!”

“You once asked me where my loyalty lies, Dean. You nearly swayed me with your charm, but as I have said, I have my own reasons for staying with Prometheus.”

“What do you want from me?”

“You.” Shrugs the war god.

“If this is one of your obscene fantasies—”

“Has anyone ever told you how bright your soul is? How delicious it is to hold? I’m sure your angel lover must have been overwhelmed, but I do not blame him. Yet you are more than that brightness. You are… in a word… a warrior.”

“Yeah, right.” Dean huffs and shakes his head but the being that has been constantly in his mind has now been mentioned and it’s taking the hunter a lot of effort to focus. His mind is not yet all the way there. “Where’s Cas? What happened to him? Has he been banished?”

“I don’t think you’d call his current position as ‘been banished’, Dean. Castiel as of the moment is someone you couldn’t possibly reach.”

“What do you mean?” Dean straightens. Everything else disappears. It is enough for him to hear the Cas is alive, but it puzzles him a little of why he wouldn’t be able to reach his angel. Like anyone can separate them at all. “What happened to Cas?”

Bacchus takes a moment and Dean nearly wraps his hands on the demigod’s throat if not for the halting pain on his side. He tries to remember what happened the moment the bolt of lightning strikes them down. The Pantheon had been after them… no sign of Prometheus… Cas pushing him to safety and disappearing… that’s all he can remember.

“Apparently, Saturn did not think highly of the disturbance during his winter celebration.” Ares begins with the first sign of emotion on his face. His eyebrows contracts and his jaw tighten. There is an air of pity in his voice. “Most of the Pantheons that went after you were killed by the strike. They were the ones who ruined the sacred altar and the wrath of god will always be delivered. Castiel and Prometheus for some reason were spared. Even you. I think it is because Prometheus is a powerful Titan on his own right and you and Castiel are from another timeline. Saturn also reigns Time and if sees fit that you returned for a purpose... Other than that, you can thank your own god for saving your lives. But not without a price.”

“Can you just get to the point? Where’s Cas? Prometheus is your friend! I’m sure he knows who you really are and fuck both of you, but hell if anything bad has happened to Castiel I’m going to turn this place upside down!”

“I believe you. But the question is would Castiel even care whatever it is you do for his name?”

Dean gapes at the demigod. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about the fact that both Castiel and Prometheus have lost their memories.”

Dean blankly stares at the demi-god, played by a real god.

“The hell…? _Is it your doing—!”_

“No.” Bacchus has this strange look in his eyes, “It is the last will of Sol Invictus.”

“Where is he now?”

“You are in no position to move—” but Dean already is on his feet, carrying his beaten body with sweat forming on his face. He glares at Bacchus who gives him a look of wonder. “You really think I will let you leave?”

“Let me or kill me. Isn’t that what you’ve wanted to do from the beginning? Kill me? The mark kinda hinted you cursed me to die by some beast. Fuck you for that by the way.” Dean moves to the door but halts when his world whirls and clutches on the wall. His knees feel wobbly.

But Castiel. He has to save Cas.

The thought itself drove Dean to take more steps to the door, taking each step like testing limits of when the god would strike him. He doesn’t care. Dead or not he has to get to Cas.

“I have a proposition.”

“Go to hell.”

“I meant to kill you, yes.”

“You mean like that Adonis of yours who cheated you? Not to mock you or anything, but you gotta get checked in the head, man. Obsessing over people you can’t have, wanting to harm them to satisfy your lust—that—that falls under the category of mad stalker. Get a grip on your head and ask someone to fix you.”

“I do believe it was gratifying to see Adonis die.” Says Bacchus and Dean stops sensing the threat, “He is very beautiful… but he’s always been a wimp. He chose my sister not because of his passion for her, but because he fears her. We gods have that kind of influence to mortals, and it has always been like that. I never liked weaklings so I tested him and it killed him. He is not even a worthy candidate. But you.”

Dean feels the intense eyes of the god on him now. He did not realize how he’s holding his breath until dizziness nearly hit him.

“You are a rare gem, Dean. And I’d like to see you shine in battle.”

“That right there is really twisted, you son of a bitch.” Dean slowly turns and presses his back on the wall just to throw an angry glare at Bacchus. He didn’t realize how out of breath he is until he closes and opens his blurry eyes. But he can still make an outline of the god. “wantin to play with food before devouring them.”

“I do that. And I think you will be wonderful.”

Dean shakes his head. “Kinky bastard.” But all these spouts don’t get him anywhere. “What proposition?”

Bacchus’ eyes glinted.

“The angel’s mark on your soul…” he begins with relish and Dean notices another glint in his eyes, “It’s the only think keeping me from fully taking a hold of you. It’s… it’s a strong emblem that possesses your soul. From the beginning, I thought this Castiel has complete control over you because of it. Bear in mind, he can. Why he did not is a unusual, but even with their celestial standard, Castiel has always been a bit different.”

Dean smiles dangerously at the compliment for his lover.

“Stop saying Cas’ name… tell me what you want.”

“I want you to surrender the mark. And in exchange, I will help you meet Castiel again.”

“You think I’ll fall for that.”

“It is your choice. I can keep you here and now, lock you away in a labyrinth and make your soul go bright with every kill of beasts that lurks in there. I can keep you there forever. But with this proposition, you can meet the angel, make you remember him if you can, save him if you will. But your soul is mine.”

Dean begins to shake his head.

“No.”

“Then you give me no choice.”

There’s a click of fingers and Dean finds himself in a reality of dark stones walls and long passage way. From there he can hear sounds of hooves walking slowly in his direction. Without a do, the man turns and is almost running if not for his injury.

_Shit._

* * *

_He's been running. Running and running around in circles._

Ever since his ass slams in that cold brick for ground, Dean's been trying to escape. Escape?

Where is he?

Dean Winchester have been to heaven, hell, purgatory, alternate universes, even Death's apartment (if Billie can please come help him now), but the place he's found himself in is unfamiliar. As he runs for eternity, all his eyes sees are the concrete walls, more concrete walls and green fire. There seems to be no ending. Arching passageway, tall ceiling with no end, the cold wall already squeezing him in,. Dean runs. Everything about him is giving him the creeps, and Dean is not creep out easily. Well, unless it's cats or friggin blood curdling mammals, Dean takes a moment to calm himself when for the last time, he ends up in the middle of the circular dark hall.

What just happened?

He's stuck. The War God's finally decided to keep him locked up and there's no way out. Dean looks around, trying hard to keep the bubble of panic already getting buried over his anger and helplessness. It's more of his weakness than his situation because fuck- Castiel! He left Castiel out there while he, Dean, runs around with nothing, not even his sanity.

The thought of the angel has Dean's knees wobbling.

Cas...Cas was just with him. He remembers everything well, except after the attack of the Sun god. Dean steps back, his back hitting the wall. The place looks like a prison. Great, so now he's trapped in some sex dungeon where he knows that yes, usually trapped men get taken by horny war gods. If he considers himself a prisoner at all. But what else does this all mean? Ares or Mars now Bacchus- he doesn't even follow the game anymore- but they're all the same person who only wants one thing.

For Dean's submission.

Dean grinds his teeth, a palm slamming on his face. In all hell and heaven, why are all these gods always after him? He slowly slides down the ground and buries his head on both his hands. What's he ever done to them? What? Of all human, why him? What made him so special? He's only a regular hunter who's been out there knowing stuff, saving and hunting others. Why do they have to always get in his way? Dean gulps as he raise his head and slams it behind him, not caring for the loud thump and the second swimming of his head.

How long has he been trapped here? What if it's one of those supernatural place that goes on different time flow than normal? What if one second here is a year out there? Does that mean he's really doomed? And then there's Cas... Bacchus- Ares damn him said he lost his memory. Dean's lips quivered and he's crying silently on his own.

Stuck here. Trapped. Imprisoned. His angel has forgotten him.

Why are the gods punishing him this way?

He buries his face on his arms. He wishes there's someone else there. A monster maybe, he doesn't care. At least something that can take him away. In death or whatnot. Even demons would be welcome. Demon deals at this point when his soul is gonna get claimed by some pagan war god? Dean doesn't think it'll work, but he will do anything just to get out of this hell hole.

Just to get to Cas.

Castiel. He doesn't even know if Cas is doing okay. Is someone taking care of him? God, Dean even wishes Prometheus is okay and ready to take care of the angel. It doesn't matter, as long as Cas is safe. Even without memories, Cas can live... he can, angel that he is.

Is this how they're going to end up winding? Dean knows it's impossible to hold on Cas, but... but he way he's feeling for the angel is stronger than any of his doubt. He loves Castiel and no, he doesn't care of their fate. But right at this moment, it doesn't matter if he and Cas will still end up together, as long as the angel is okay.

_Please... whoever's listening... keep him safe._

Dean's heartaches as he longs for Cas presence. 

"_What power. Nothing else could have summoned me other than that."_ says a voice, making Dean jump as if it's the first time he's heard a voice in all century. The man looks up from where he is sitting with flat ass, and finds a haze of golden light. His eyes widen. 

There's just light, pure blinding light that doesn't hurt his eyes. Dean slowly stands, back sliding up the cold wall. He stance himself for battle, wary and distrustful. But slowly, he begins to understand that this light means him no harm. Not this kind of warm light. Not this kind of power that somehow throws away the shadows that has taken hold of the hunter's heart. He eyes the light haze, like a cloud especially made for this apparition. Like a dream.

Dean's eyes widen. He's seen this before.

There's a soft, air strumming chuckle that has Dean oozing and melting.

"You..." he whispers, his mouth dry, "I know you..."

The light twinkles. Pink and inviting. Dean stares and steps closer. The light is whispering to him, the same voice from awhile ago, only it's inside his head. It wills him to come forward and Dean doesn't hesitate. He knows what power is making this miracle and he's all for gripping it tight because it's the same power he will use to get everything back.

Get Castiel back. He inches slowly, green eyes sparkling in understanding as the voice speaks to him. Tells him what to do. This isn't a coincidence. This is _fate._ And Dean's fate in this power alone is enough to make him trust to reach out, to raise his hand and touch that heavenly light calling on to him. Guiding him. This is the only power Dean's used every fucking time he finds himself at the bottom, at the end, at his last ropes.

The same power he will use against all his adversary and get Castiel back in his arms.

The _power of his love._

* * *

Dean doesn’t know how long, but the moment he steps into the light of the busy market of Rome, he knows it’s never the same date as when he was kept against his will inside the labyrinth. He knows. The light told him. He glares at everything, even the light, but he has a mission to accomplish. The oath he plans to accomplished backed up by that mysterious power, Dean knows he can win. Frankly, he doesn't know how all things will move on from here. All he knows is that there are certain powers that balances everything, and that he, Dean Winchester is no simple man.

He hasn't been a simple man the moment his mother died on that fire. He's always been groomed to be a man of mission. First to take care of his brother, second to hunt and save lives. But most importantly, to save that angel from the shackles of heaven. Whatever it is that draws him to Castiel be it fate or their own will, Dean will hold on to that. The same way he will on hold to his feelings for the angel.

Because if there's anything Castiel exceeds expectations to the point of turning all tables- it's his love for Dean.

And Dean just plans to return the same gesture once and for all. The man inhales and surveys his surrounding.

Yes, right at this moment, he is a soldier, like what his father had groomed him into. A man with a purpose. 

A man set out to hunt for his love.

As he begins walking and mixing with the crowd, Dean can't help the flood of memories not escaping his mind. the mere thought of Castiel not even remembering him, remembering what they have, is like a stake on his heart. But they'll get pass through this. They will.

Because he's goddamn Dean Winchester and the Angel of the Lord, Castiel.

There's nothing this world can do to separate them.

Dean takes the lead as he bumps shoulder to shoulder with the Romans whom all had no idea what the fuck is going on in their time. Dean takes notice of the Vestas temple and immediately thinks of his brother. He stops right in front of the Temple of Saturn and turns away. He notices an old lady standing by the stairs and quietly approaches her.

“What day is it?” he tries not to be gruff, but his voice that has never been used except for yelling can’t possibly be less deep.

“My, are you some kind of lost in the head? It’s the second of February.”

Dean thanks her, reminding himself to be polite while dread crept in his guts.

Six weeks. He’s been kept in the labyrinth for six weeks. Dean grits his teeth as he walks quietly with the crowd. He can’t believe it’s been that long since then. Can’t believe he’s left Cas to fend for himself with a lost memory. Can’t believe he’s been selfish enough when in the end, he knows what it was he needed to do. He breathes tiredly and after a few look arounds, he stops in front of another large temple, this time with plenty of men wearing long white tunic loose around the chest. He waits with the crowd as the priests’ form lines. He’s gotten the information from Bacchus as he stands outside a large dome where he hears most of the priests are staying.

Castiel has been taken by the priests and for some unknown reason, been hailed as the next High Priest. Dean stares at the thick wall of the dome, looking for a way to get in. Cold metal bars separate him from Cas now, but as luck would have it, it seems the priests are on their way out for a traditional en route.

He waits with the others until he sees him. Clad in pure blue with dark hair barely jutting out of his head, blue eyes as piercing as ever is none other than his angel. His love. He watches as the being clambers in the golden chariot with the emblem of Rome and spearheaded the parade.

The angel, now High Priest sits regally with expression blank and intimidating. Like the first time Dean has seen him in that barn, carrying himself like a soldier following a command. How has he been? It doesn’t look like he got the end of the ropes worst even with memory lost. And somehow the angel looks like he belongs there. Like he’s meant to be there. The parade begins and as the High Priest’s chariot levels with Dean, longing filled the hunter.

_“Cas.”_

He walks at the edge of the line, wanting to throw himself on the road and have Cas look at him but nothing. The angel doesn’t hear and the chariot goes away, leaving Dean empty.

* * *

**Back to the present... of the Priest falling in the hands of the barbarian... Dean Winchester, the Barbarian! xD**

**The beginning.**

* * *

The flame flickers, distorting their shadows as Dean looks up from his hands to the priest staring at him from the bed. He sees doubt flashing in the angel’s eyes, sees his rigid body turn a little away from him like he is not sure if Dean’s safe or not and the hunter doesn’t blame him.

“It all sounds absurd, I know and believe me, staying here for more than necessary… even I doubt myself sometimes if its real… or if I’m crazy… but every time I see you I remind myself I shouldn’t let you down. That you’d want me to save you. Because I know you, Cas… you’d want me to save myself and I can’t do that without saving you.”

The priest stays still.

“I heard you.” Castiel says after a while. Now what do you want to happen now? Do you plan to keep me here? Or are you going to release me in good faith? Because that’s all you want, isn’t it? For me to hear you?”

Dean raises his chin, hard eyes on the angel.

“But do you believe me?”

“What do you want to hear?”

“The truth.”

“I don’t.”

Dean musters his emotions and stands up, swaying a little. He doesn’t know… this is the response he’s been dreading since taking it to himself to save Cas. He doesn’t want to force it, but doesn’t want to give up soon. So staying his back on the angel, he mutters under his breath, making sure Castiel can hear him.

“You stay.”

Silence follows his words. When no other sound comes from the angel, Dean is forced to look back, only to find those blue eyes transfixed on him, filled with coldness it makes him shrink back.

“I’m sorry, Cas.”

“You don’t have to apologize if you let me go. This thing between us, even if I say there has to be some truth to it because I do have some gaps on my memory, it doesn’t cover the real truth I don’t know you. You are a stranger. And if you want me remember, you will be willing to wait. With me free.”

Dean clenches his teeth. But he is saved from any response when he hears something from outside. Castiel heard it too and he straightens from the bed. The two keeps still, silently looking at each other before Dean is putting a finger on his lips and taking out his dagger from his back. Castiel watches as the hunter slowly steps onto the door, listening intently.

Nothing came. Not until Dean opens the doors and steps outside, leaving the angel by the bed for a moment, before a crashing sound outside alerts them and Dean comes flying from the doorway to the table—crashing it on the floor with his back with a groan.

Castiel just watches him quietly and then sees three demons in human form enter. They see him and their wild instincts against angels make them start in his direction. They must’ve followed them from the forest. The angel frowns.

Castiel seems to quickly realize his dilemma when he looks down the enochian chains, but Dean isn’t about to let anything harm the angel as he surges forward and tackles the three demons without hesitation. The whole place turns into a pandemonium with the angel already on his feet, not understanding why his eyes seek the man who tumbles and falls and still keeps fighting for his sake. One demon manages to reach the edge of the circle, making Castiel stand on his feet, ready for battle when the demon is pulled back by a very bloody hunter.

“Dean…” Castiel calls, blinking rapidly and looking at the man’s wounds.

“It’s fine, they won’t… I won’t let em hurt you.” Dean mutters, wiping his bleeding forehead, “There’s more outside and dammit, they’ve been spying on me for ages. Shoulda known they’d know I was keeping this place.”

“Why didn’t you make this demon proof? The angel says angrily but Dean only shakes his head.

“I did. Someone tampe—”

Dean is stabbed at the back, making Castiel groan for some reason but the hunter is no way ready to back down. He turns to the circle, then rubs the sigils away.

“Shit, so sorry. Things to get really fucked up when I’m involved. You should go, I’ll hold them.”

“Where’s the key?” Castiel demands and to his surprise Dean tells him.

“It’s at the city in a small shack near the Gracilli Pan store. Ask him. Just go there pick it up. I’ll catch with you later.”

Castiel stares at the hunter.

“You’re an idiot.”

“I know.”

But Dean watches Castiel use the backdoor to leave. Dean sighing and cursing himself. About who set him up and why the demons seem to know exactly when and where to find him.

“Damn you, Bacchus.”

There’s a brief fight. Dean hates the gut wrenching pain of all the claws and knives he tries to avoid, almost coming out victorious and standing his ground for another half an hour—only to end with painful slam of something heavy on his head.

Dean falls on the ground and he knows no more.

* * *

Dean starts at the sound of chains and blinks into full awareness.

Fuck. How did he fuck that up? He doesn’t remember much, but the feel of chain on his wrist is enough reminder how quick things turn on him.

How Castiel is no longer in his hands again. He tries to calm down, hating himself for the lost but there’s nothing to be done about it. He’s been trying, but if even the gods are against him, there’s no way he can fight that. Can’t fight them.

He hears heavy footsteps from outside his prison cell. He looks up and sees the familiar face of his guard who raps on his door to wake him. Dean doesn’t bother telling him he already is. He knew this day was to come. Silently, he gets on his feet, lets the guard hook the chain on his wrist bands and march outside the corridor to the loud stampede of the Colosseum.

Dean inadvertently looked down his left shoulder and visibly scowls. With people lining up behind him, Dean ducks towards the entrance of the Colosseum. After a quick calculation, Dean entered the tunnels for the freemen, rubs shoulders with those he recognized and exchanged quick words with old Fergus, a little pudgy Roman who settles fights. The old man gave him a sly grin before letting him in the warrior’s quarters.

“The crowd will like your pretty face.” He says with a wicked grin. “Gonna be waiting out there for some ass to show.”

“What is this?” Dean growls.

“You’re in the arena, slave. You kidnapped the high priest and you’re now gonna pay it with your life. I’d rather offer to take you though, if you come out alive.” He licks his lips, but Dean is quiet for a moment.

It’s Cas. Cas sent him here in the gallows—in the arena.

The angel returns for him and… what? Sent him here?

“I’m fighting…” Dean whispers, looking down his beaten body and dried blood. It feels like yesterday, only yesterday when he thought heaven is finally in favor of him.

“Yes, don’t die. My offer still stands though,” the man gives him a leering look to which Dean is already accustomed by now. It isn’t really the first time he gets hit on by the old man, or anyone else for that matter. “What’s your name? For the arena’s sake.”

Dean stays stills. There’s no moment to think right now, he can hear the audience roaring above him. Waking up now with a battle ahead of him, he doesn’t ask questions. If this is how things end, so be it.

“Where’s the High Priest?”

“Watching on the stands.”

“Waiting for me to lose my head?”

“Apparently.” Fergus smirks and leads him to the entrance where the sound of roaring live audience brings Dean back to reality of things.

Dean cranes his neck at the gladiators entering the tunnels ahead of him.

“Who’ll be watching?” he asks absentmindedly as the old man unchains him.

“The emperor hasn’t shown himself in fifty days if he’s the one you’re still planning to assassinate.” Fergus turns and nods his head to another man before landing a hand on Dean’s shoulder and squeezing. “You do wanna assassinate his ass, don’t you?”

“I tell you I don’t care.” Dean brushes off his hand, leaning away when Fergus snickers and attempted to pat his cheeks. Frowning, Dean walks off. He doesn’t like the sly old bag. Fergus, he heard from outside, has reputation among the slaves and if Dean ever lands as one he knows this guy will be the first one to auction him. There have been many attempts to catch him as one, Dean knows he’s stepped on enough number of people’s toes to get a group of enemies, but Dean is a seasoned mind reader of twisted people and their intent. It’s not gonna be his first time in a slave market too.

Unlike the slaves and criminals thrown in the battlefield, this was more of Dean’s volition. Fame and glory are part of the promises to the strongest gladiator but Dean can careless about those… Slavery has damaged many gladiators more than anyone can imagine. At the same time, he didn’t want this freedom to be wasted when it was given by the only thing keeping Dean thinking straight.

_Castiel._ For that name, he will do anything.

He meets grim looking warriors who either throws him deathly looks or lingering ominous stares, there’s no in between. He’s the new blood here and he’s only able to make it pass the initial try out when he sends a gigantic gladiator spiraling down the ground, knocked out. Not for nothing, but years of wrestling his little brother did have its merits.

Dean smiles at the thought of Sam and his heart grows weary every step. He remembers the last time Sam came to his rescue. Sam is probably doing everything he could to get him out of here—perhaps he’s already done something—but Dean is not ready to go back home yet. Not until Cas is safe. He will have to find a way to make Cas remember, but for now, letting Cas see him is the most important thing. Just for a flicker of recognition, that’s all he’s asking. If not, he’s gonna have to burn himself in the angel’s memory again.

* * *

The thought has Dean looking down his left shoulder when he sits on the cold and empty waiting area, placing his helmet next to him. His left shoulder is… _clean._

And it isn’t supposed to be because that’s where Cas’ mark is supposed to be. Now there’s only a freckled clean skin. Dean has never felt emptier, like a missing part has gone away. The mark was part of him, now it’s been… removed. It’s taken away.

In the silence, he wills himself to close his eyes. The jeers of the crowd are soon lost in his concentration. He sits more rigidly as his mind delved in the darkest corner of his brain, he only accesses upon bloodbath. The noise soon becomes mere echo till all he can feel is the drop of water above the tunnel to the stone ground. Then in his mind’s eye, fire begins to ignite, scattering in the shadow, burning every thing it touches, revealing a figure in the middle that stood watching him with penetrating blue eyes.

_Yes, I need you._

“You only need yourself.”

Dean opens his eyes and sees Bacchus standing by the wall with arms crossed.

The hunter, now gladiator stiffens. Bacchus’ eyes glimmers. There's that tension in the air, of a war god against a mere mortal trying to withstand him and Dean is winning. Because Bacchus, when he escapes the labyrinth, has realized who was the power guiding Dean. In some weird order or mutual understanding, Bacchus or Ares doesn't attack. Unlike what most say about his temper, or the first time Dean encounters him, Bacchus is very much the epitome of calm.

It's weird that even the War of God can succumb to the light that's been Dean's real ally from the beginning. Bacchus sees the man stiffen and give him the coldest of looks.

“You don’t need to be so wary of me, I am your ally, Dean.”

“You betrayed me.”

“He betrayed you too. That angel.”

Dean doesn’t answer but the tension in his shoulder shows. He gives the god a narrowed look.

“When’s your counterpart showin up?”

“You want to deal with Mars right now?”

“He’s god of war, there’s must be a reason you showed up.”

“You want to ask for his help?”

“No.” Dean thinks. “Just want him to watch the fuckin’ show.”

Bacchus smiles. “He will. There’s a reason he chose you, Dean. You shine in battle.”

Dean morbidly remembers his time in hell. It raises his instincts and his grip on his weapon tightens. Bacchus slinks toward him with lazy hands touching Dean’s bare shoulder. The god massages him and Dean closes his eyes and let himself feel the hard press on his skin.

“You will be magnificent there, Dean.”

When Dean opened his eyes next, Bacchus is gone. Dean grimaces as fire burns in his own orbs. Everything about him is subjected to the corner as he clutched his knees, unaware of the time that passed and the gladiators now standing in the same room as him. No one dares to stand close enough to break Dean’s concentration. They all stood a good measure away for he is emitting an atmosphere of death. Some even glad they are not fighting him today.

_“Decanus!”_ roars the boisterous voice of the announcer and Dean stands. He turns to get a thick shield from the stands before wearing his helmet with strange calmness, he walks to the tunnel leading to the arena.

From the darkness of the tunnel, he finds himself meeting the bright sky with thunderous cheers filling the grand stadium, craving for blood and his death. Heat flushes his skin, the draught of the arena. Dean ignores them. _Decanus_ is may not be his real name, but it has enough fight ringing to it that he responds. A few days of training and one side fight and he gets the attention of everyone. Now he faces a full audience that only sees him as the dark horse these days. Dean is yet to show his prowess.

Dean steps in the sand, hot sun on his bare chest and shoulders. He sees Boppel already standing in the middle with a sword at hand. Carefully, Dean starts for him, the crowd hollering even more as they circled each other. Both men knew it is to be their last, or at least one of them. Boppel’s golden eyes focuses on Dean who twirled the sword in his own, green eyes training on his enemy. At some unseen cue, the two begin the battle with swords clashing in the air. The exchange is crucial in the first minute. Boppel is no novice as he jabs and swings unrelentingly. Dean starts the defense but is on the offense at a flick of the wrist. The crowd went mad at the sign of the first blood, Dean’s wounded right arm is a good sacrifice to the slit on Boppel’s throat, but it is not enough to bring the man down. Dean sees him smirk as he wiped the cut on the skin before he retaliates in earnest.

Dean is prepared for him on the next strike, bringing his sword upward, cutting through Boppel’s shield from below. Sands and dirt fly in the air. Gasps in the air as Boppel brings his sword down Dean’s heart as a counter, only to be thwarted by Dean’s good arm bearing his own shield. But the position has his legs bent down and the crowd gasps again. Dean grinds his teeth, Boppel takes the opportunity to pound his own sword again and again till Dean is on his knee, scraping on the hot sand.

Instinctively, he ran his eyes around to the two arbiters watching on the sides, then the executioner with his large hammer, ready to give the last blow to a dying soul as form of mercy. How many times had he imagined being himself being on the executioner’s receiving end?

His eyes scanned the cavea to the spectators enjoying the fight. Not for the first time did he wish he could see his muse watching from a far. If this was to be his time, he’d give anything to see him again. He knew it is wrong to lose focus as he scanned the crowd. Too many faces, none too near or striking as his god. Then he sees the podium, a flat marble terrace on the north where the Imperial box stood in a prominent position elevated in a pulvinar with stairs on one side. Several seats are there for the Emperor and other high-ranking officials but his chair is empty.

But next on his chair there sat a strange man clad in white trabea toga of a priest, watching the progress with gleaming blue eyes even under the shade of tent. Dean feels his skin stand on edge, feels his heart stop beating for a second for the impossibility crashed on him like Boppel striking for a kill. A kick on his shield has Dean rolling on the ground but the thought of dying just when he found his god didn’t sound appealing. With power vesting from pure will, Dean throws his entire body at Boppel. The two collide and swords fly in the air, leading cheers on for it meant hand to hand combat. A slower kill. But Dean has no time to please the hungry crowd as he reached for his dagger and completely slit Boppel’s waiting throat.

Screams and gasps, then cheers. Boppel drops on the ground, his blood profusely coloring the sand, dead. Dean is unaware of the crowd or the bleeding of his arm and left side of his abdomen. His eyes fix on the podium, ears not hearing the crowd’s cheer for his victory. But soon the spectators fall silent when they see the gladiator walking straight towards the pulvinar with a red gleaming dagger still at hand and no intention to stop. It becomes apparent what Dean has in mind.

Like a madman, he fought his way to the stands. Was it to appease his mind that the figure is real? Was it the longing for two years for a figure he doesn’t even know? Dean didn’t know. He just wants to see him again.

The Praetorian guards react and charge without warning in his direction. The crowd shouts and hollers in excitement again for nothing like this has ever happened before. But Dean is focused on the priest whose eyes are on him, unflinching and unafraid to see that he is the aim. Dean soaks in his presence, remembering correctly the features of his jaw, his nose, his eyes—everything that burned right in the gladiator’s eyes. So this is how heaven looks like?

The guards are upon him but Dean does not see them. What he sees is another guard beside the priest leaning too eagerly to whisper something in his ear. The priest frowns and dismisses the message with a wave of his delicate hand, obviously waiting to see how this end, but Dean is much aware—alarmed and angered when the unknown guard pulled his sword. The priest’s eyes flashed dangerously with no hint of fear but Dean could never—_would never let anything happen to him._

In swift movements, Dean sends his dagger straight to the skull of the guardsman, earning him roar of anger from multitude of directions. But his aim is straight and strong and it knocks the body out to the floor. A quick death. Anger course through him. No one is to touch his god. His eyes find his priest who finally raises eyes in his direction to meet him. And a message to the heavens is sent immediately with utmost intensity.

_Mine._

The undivided attention of the blue eyes flooded Dean’s sight and burned his insides. Only when the Praetorian guards crowd him in with spears that Dean sees the priest still watching which he finds highly arousing. Dean smiles.

The priest narrows his eyes just as he disappears from view when the guards take hold of him. But Dean continued to smile. Even when he is already getting beaten to the ground, all hell rising, he still has his winning grin.

The priest’s blue eyes are on him alone.

_That is good. Burn me in your memory now._

The last thing he remembered is a sack pulled down his head and a blow on the stomach that made him on the ground followed by sickening kicks of feet.

But what the hell. He just got the attention of his blue-eyed priest, might as well enjoy the consequences.

_Cas._


	18. Dripping water hollows out Stone

_ ** ** _

_ **Gutta cavat lapidem** _

* * *

Suffice to say, this is not the first time that Dean has been tortured. Killing an Imperial guard in front of hundreds of eyes is enough for someone to be executed on the spot. But orders were made in the colosseum while Dean was held down that ultimately ended with getting struck in the head thrice before falling unconscious.

He is fully aware of the next three days that followed however when he finds himself in the torture dungeon. Of the endless taste of whip and pads everywhere in his naked body covered only in his loincloth. He dangles from the ceiling, wrists chain together with his bare feet not touching the ground. The way his body spins every time he is struck in the stomach or kicked around makes him grunt and cough. The sound of chains became his alarm that the assault is ongoing when he flickers his eyes open to the newly invigorated torturers who have passion in waking him with a splash of cold water. Then the whole day’s pain is unstoppable but Dean being himself stubbornly stayed awake till their last antic. He knew they hate it. He never gives them the satisfaction of begging for mercy. The last he remembers is someone strangling him, crushing his throat and everything went dark.

Waking up, in the dim light of the third night, Dean is surprised to find his back pressed on the cold ground. Instincts barely warned him that something is happening when he felt a finger being jabbed down his mouth that Dean jerks, full awake. From the fire of the torches, Dean sees a large man on top of him, the chief warden who was always outside his cell when the torture was ongoing. The man he always sees watching him, preying on his body with desire. Dean’s eyes hardened as he realizes the man is already straddling his hips, his free hand palming the bulk of Dean’s erection on top of his loincloth. His other hand remained on Dean’s cheek, his thumb rubbing the bottom of the gladiator’s lip.

“Open your mouth.” he orders with eyes filled with lust, finally slipping his hand on Dean’s groin. Dean looks away in anger but again, this is not a new kind of torture. It had been like that too, when he was a prisoner of war. The hand then snatched his chin and jerked it back, “_I said open your mouth!”_

Dean grinded his teeth and did. The moment the fingers slipped in, he crushed it with his teeth. There is a loud howl of pain followed by a painful blow on Dean’s right cheek. But Dean is smiling when he finds the warden glaring at him with his bleeding hand. Then things happened at once and they usually do happen this way as Dean was slammed to his stomach on the floor, chained wrists above him, head jerked backwards with a pull on his hair.

“I’m going to fuck you, whore, and you will let me hear your cries, begging for more. Let us teach you some good manners before we deliver you to your new master.”

Dean opens his eyes at the meaning, but his legs are pushed apart, leaving his ass in the air. His hair gets freed when the hand slid on his shoulder. Dean grinds his teeth again as he bows his head, waiting for things to end quickly.

_“I don’t remember this being part of ‘no lasting damage on the good’ when I bought him.” _Says a drawling deep voice from the threshold of the room. Dean feels the clutch on his shoulder disappear like it has just been burned. Then the whole weight trapping him gets lifted too, making him able to breathe for full seconds, trying to wrap his head on his surroundings. 

He hears the warden stutter something incoherent but he is no longer paying attention. The next thing he hears is a full lung scream and something dropping on the floor. Dean blinks several times, before forcing himself to sit on his legs. Everything about him is burning.

Someone, a figure, walks toward him and kneels down. Dean is still blinking when he feels another tug on his chin, much sharper but none threatening this time.

“Look at me.” Commanded a deep voice.

Dean did and his eyes widened when he finds the full blue eyes of his god staring directly right at him. Wearing a black chlamys on top of his white toga, black hair covered with hood, the priest’s blue eyes were all too clear from memory, even the shape of his delicate eyebrows that lined into a frown is as Dean imagined. He takes a look at the priest, his familiar face, his neck, his shoulders all sung to him. He is, years later, still the most beautiful creation Dean has ever seen and may god forgive him for the thoughts the crossed his mind, the tingling sensation on his twitching cock an attestation to his yearning.

_Cas... _

_Cas saved him._

The angel doesn't break away, instead he wipes the blood smearing Dean's cheeks.

“You.... I do not know what hold you have of me. But I know I can't let you stay like this. Even after everything.” The priest sounds both intrigued and amused but his deadpan expression remains. Castiel lets go of Dean’s chin slowly but Dean is not about to do the same. Especially not when his god tilted his head side on the side in mild confusion and asks, “Why do you still smile? Despite your condition—why do you look so arrogantly alive? What is it that you want from me, Dean?”

Dean can’t get it out his throat, it has been strained with force from torture. He can only do so much with his sore arms as he slowly raised them and clutched on the priest’s lapel. The action did not go unnoticed and there is a hint of sheer loathing in the blue eyes for a second—for never has there been a more atrocious act of a slave touching his master—if that is what he heard correctly— but Dean has belonged to him longer than the god knows. Castiel's body seems to know too.

Because how else is the angel drawn in Dean's direction?

And never has there been anything more scandalous than a slave initiating the kiss to a priest no less. Dean has no thoughts to spare, if this will be his death then so be it so he kissed his god ardently, so unbidden by any forms of laws of men and gods. He wrapped his lips on the priest who remained rigid, till Dean hungrily pulls him closer with a groan at the back of his throat, biting down on his bottom lip to ease up and let him taste him.

_Mine._

Heat surges inside him as his tongue runs on the soft lips, wildly setting him awry as he knelt up, their heads tilting, the priest’s face upward. The longing is painful, the searing kiss is much painful. He wants more and he wants his god to feel it. After what seems to be long hours of nipping and biting to urgently give more, the priest caved in as his lips parted a little. Dean sinks his tongue in the boiling chasm, meeting with his tongue and exploring the inside till little by little his mouth opens to accept. Dean takes everything he could, lapping the corners of his mouth, pulling and sucking on the god’s warm tongue that tastes better than any sweet honey. Everything about this blue-eyed god is making Dean painfully wish his body is in his full control. _He can do more. He needs to do more. _He feels his consciousness slip at the excitement and torture of the day, feels his clammy hands slowly let go even though he forces them to hold on. His knees are no better…

He pulls from the heated kiss, swathing his lips on his god one last time before looking him fully in the eyes. He licks his own mouth at what he sees. In the haze of his vision, he thinks he sees the blue eyes look back at him in fear and pure surprise that winded him.

His god is only a man after all. _A man-god he needs to worship._

Dean would have kissed him some more if not for his beaten legs unable to support his position and he finds himself sliding down, but strong arms catch him.

_Mine._ He wants to shout to the world. _Mine, mine, mine, mine…_

He locates the blue eyes, drowning in their hue and staring longingly before darkness consumes him.

* * *

When Dean comes to, he is uncertain of the number of hours that passed, but waking in the bundle of softest material as a bed set aside the comfort of more sleep. It actually made him jump up even more like finding a snake hidden beneath his robes or getting roasted above a pyre. The sudden action sends a sharp pain in his head but he ignores it, like how he ignores the rest of his body when he sees where he is. Pain is none out of the ordinary. His life has mostly been that.

He catches a glimpse of white as he blinks and roams his eyes around when it finally cleared.

His jaw drops at the large room he finds himself in with tall ceilings of marble with grand artistic carvings. The walls had more than four columns and covered with velvet blue. The white sheets on his bed are enough to support six tents in succession. Dean did not like the way his body sinks on the bed like a quicksand in the middle. Too soft for his back that has gotten used to more solid ground. Torches in golden plates lit the room on four corners. Dean has no way to know how he got there or where he is even. The lack of windows did not help his balance of time. Deciding it is high time to get his ass off the suspicious comforting bed, Dean throws the blankets covering his naked body. That’s when he noticed stitches and plastered cloths covering his beaten middle. He ignores it and makes out for the bed again when a deep voice makes a disapproving sound from a corner of the room.

Dean looks up in surprise at a dark-haired figure staring at him from the newly opened door. Thrill run through his veins as he recognizes him. Dark hair, blue eyes, his god.

The priest is in one of his regular white palla with one-shoulder strap and waves of fabric down to the top of his knees. Dean stares at him with unrivaled concentration that has the priest narrowing his eyes. The urge to reach him is overwhelming and so uncontrollable that Dean is already sliding his legs on the edge of the bed before he could decide what to do when there are firm hands pressing on his shoulders, halting his movements.

Dean looks up. His muse stares down at him with cold, calculating eyes so closely.

“Do not leave the bed.” He commanded in a baritone. “Your body is not fit for sudden movements.”

Dean can only stare at him. The intimidating approach did nothing to the gladiator’s arousal at their proximity. It is one thing to lust at his image propped up in the corner of his room, it is a lot different to have the man stand in front of him in person. More so holding his shoulders with a grip so strong it is almost maddening. He wants to hold him, wants to run his hands everywhere, mind almost wandering how perfect the bed will be with him pinned under him, but the blue eyes are holding him captivated at the moment.

The pressure in his right shoulder disappeared. Dean pulls his eyes, intending to follow the hand when the feel of his warm hand touching around Dean’s throat has the man clenching his jaw.

Then the priest is peering in his eyes. Dean cannot help swallowing painfully.

“Is your throat in any pain? I have tried healing the rest of your physical injuries but it appears your throat has received the most damaged. You have been asleep for three days. Your wounds are healing well because of the powerful herbals I keep in the villa. Can you talk?”

Dean lets a hoarse sound escaped his lips. He frowns at the angel and points at him. The angel raises his eyebrows.

"You really mean that after what you've done to me, you wish me to use my grace to heal you? I wouldn't put our connection to that level, yet. You are still a stranger to me and I do not put my skills for others to see lightly."

Dean blinks. Oh. So Cas is showing... reservation? For healing. That puts a question in his mind because his Castiel would never hesitate to heal him. Cas heals him in a beat. A strange sense of lost overcomes the hunter, finding solace in gripping the blankets of the bed. A hand suddenly comes in view, tipping his chin and then he's looking straight in Castiel's eyes.

"You look disappointed... you must be expecting me... the Castiel from your story to just... fall in love with you again."

Dean just stares at him blankly. His body is aching all over, and with the amnesiac Castiel in front of him, he thinks he just wants to take a raincheck and sleep for the rest of his time. Except, right now he is getting distracted. So distracted and mesmerized by the priest’s lips too near him. He licks his own distractedly, seeing the angel apparently sensing his desire.

"You will do well not to take my lips again. I only spared you since you are wounded."

Dean shakes his head. 

“So Decanus is not your real name?” repeats the priest. Dean pauses and looks guiltily at the stern eyes staring back at him. “I did not hear this in your ambitious story. Even if it is, it shall do you no good to lie, Decanus. There are many things I still wish to ask you, but waiting for your full recovery seems appropriate. It’s already dusks outside, and you have not taken supper. I will ask the servants to serve your meal, till then I do not think it wise for you to wander around, that is, if you do not want me to chain you on the bed more so for my own well-being as much as yours.”

Dean blinks questioningly at the priest who gazes back at him unsympathetically. Then before Dean can say anything, the priest has his hand slide from his neck down to the crack of his chest and abdomen till it palms his hardening staff. The gladiator hissed, body arching at the contact. But the priest stayed him with his other hand staying on his shoulder. There is a deep warning glint in his eyes that Dean did not miss.

“You are too lust filled and too out of control to be trusted, Dean. Your earlier actions... you abducting me... after all this... it has prompted me to believe I am at stake of putting you under my roof. Can I trust you, Dean?"

Dean can only concentrate on breathing for now. The hold on his cock is non-gentle, like it is to be ripped from its roots without mercy and looking at the priest, Dean knew he just could. The blue eyes flickered behind the deadpan and Dean is reminded of how powerful the figure had blown him from the great fire. It is not because of his sole beauty alone that Dean is captivated, but the strength that lies within his domineering persona. He is not one to be fooled and trifled around with, that is for sure.

Dean understands this but he refuses to nod. In fact, his inner more impulsive self has an answer. He reached down and gently wrapped his hand on top of the priest’s hand holding his hood. He watches in fascination as his muse’s eyes wavered in confusion a moment, before Dean pulls him closer, their faces leveling once again. Dean planted a gentle kiss on his cheeks and drops his head on the priest’s shoulder with a sigh. He guides his hand on his cock, feeling his arousal kick the blankets up. His length now erects before him but he lets the hand go.

Receiving punishment in any form is Dean’s idea of healing.

The priest straightens and Dean hates the idea of him leaving. The priest looks differently at him, yet still on guard. Dean wishes him to know he poses no threat, so reaching to his hand again, the gladiator kisses his palm in surrender. He doesn’t question where he was kept, doesn’t need to know what will happen after.

_I’m in your hands._

This elicited an effect even Dean is surprised to see. The priest jerked his hand back quickly with alarm filling his blue eyes. Dean blinks at him and watches the priest’ cold look resume.

“What are you implying, slave?”

Dean only stares back sincerely, watching the movement of his lips. Suddenly, all the pain in his body is reminding him to rest. Who thought an erection can make him tired? His eyes glazed, but he refused to look away. At least one last time…

The priest is reading him, he is sure. That must be why he steps back in discomfort. Dean must be emitting his want so directly and closely. The thought made him proud as he blinks his sleepiness.

“I shall wait for you to recover and exact a punishment that awaits you next time you act out of your place. Do not touch me so easily, Decanus. You’re nothing but a filthy slave now.”

The priest stalks off, leaving Dean watching him in dismay for leaving. The wooden door shut close, leaving the gladiator musing over his mistake and action. His entire dream is composed of torture and death, but though dying, he is able to remember his god’s sweet lips.

* * *

The next time he wakes up in the middle of the night, Dean finds himself alone while tangled in many sheets. Perspiration and discomfort aside, he sits up with a grunt. The entire vicinity is dead still with the dim lit torch to guide his eyes. But he has to get up to take care of his full bladder. He fights the bundles for a second before locating the chamber pot. He would have returned to the bed if not for his sore back so he drops on the floor and thanked the heavens for its coolness. He did not realize how warm his body had been and did not even care that he laid there in all fours, butt naked.

Somewhere in between the sleep haze, he feels someone touching his back. Circles are made and he feels his body relax. Smell of medical agents filled his nostrils but there’s more. A scent of an intoxicating flower. Dean really want to turn back to the soft fingers gently dabbing on his injuries. But firm hand clasped his shoulder, stopping any movements. Baritone whispers soothed him and his eyelids shut, ignoring the protest of his mind.

_Mine…_

Dean wakes up full the next time and finds himself buried once again in the mound of blankets on the bed. Feeling much better with his body no longer feeling too warm, he stares at the door expectantly. His nose scents the air but he can only smell his own body already smeared with stinky herbals. Sighing, Dean threw all the blankets on the floor, him following after.

* * *

Dean is awakened by movements on the table beside the bed. But he isn’t on the bed and instead lying on the floor with covers wrapped around his body. He still scorns the too suffocating cottons that can break his back more than any gladiator could. He sits up at the commotion only to see a dark-haired lady servant placing a large water jug and small containers on top of it. Seeing that he is awake, the lady bows in respect, placing the tray closely to her chest.

“I am to serve the meal and your medicine, master.”

Dean shakes his head vigorously and points to himself and her. He gestures what he thinks is parallel of arms to indicate balance, then tips of fingers on the same level to show no supremacy. But the servant stares back fearfully, looking at him and then the bed. Dean smacks his head and shakes his head again.

“Nhuuu...” he grimaces at the gurgling sound he produces and sighs in frustration. In the end he just stands up to grab the nearest cup of water, to find the lady bowing at once and inching towards the door, running in the corridor in the next second. Dean frowns and drinks his water. The next thing, another disapproving sound of the same voice caught his attention from the doorway.

Dean turns beaming as he sees his god standing at the doorway with arms crossed, wearing a complete white treabea that covered his dark hair to his ankles with blue geometric motifs decorating its hem. He looks sacred enough that Dean didn’t doubt his regal position but his smile drops when he finds the priest with a prim press of lips. The gladiator in him backed off a little and he knew he should never look his master in the eyes, but not seeing his blue eyes is more than torture. Dean risks a glance and sees his god narrows his eyes.

“Saturnalia is over, Decanus, but you are still displaying public nudity and liaison. Have you forgotten you are under the household of a Pontiff?” his glare has Dean blinking, but not enough to keep his eyes away. The man shakes his head. Decanus here and there. He's learned Cas uses his name like this when he's pissed.

They haven't been living together that long and now this? But then- Cas has always been a sassy smart aleck back in the days. With more power now in par of an emperor, it's only natural that Cas' innate bossiness gets out in the public.

Dean knew he should have guessed from the rank of his clothing. A Pontifex is one of the highest positions ruled by one Pontifex Maximus or High Priest in the collegium of priests. They preside over feasts, sacrifices and sacred institutions and is considered important to the Emperor and the country in general for they communicate with the gods. For his god to be a Pontiff in itself makes Dean want to dig his hands in the number of white layers but knows he will have his hands cut first.

His unconscious step is stopped by a death glare. “I am really tempted to tie you on your bed. Your body is not healed however your intractable mind want to make yourself believe. And do not approach me, I cannot enter your room to inspect your injuries, I have just done a purifying ceremony. No one is allowed to touch me.” the priest begins.

Dean pulls his eyes up to find the blue eyes raking on his body with nothing save complete apathy. Oh, how Dean’s hands itch to reach him more and sinfully. His desire reaches the priest who gives him a death glare before he clears his throat and stands straight.

“It will do you good to also begin wearing some form of attire. I have the servants deliver the clothing, and they shall provide you with anything you will need. There is also a concoction I have prepared for your throat to be taken every meal. You are not allowed to leave the villa. Do you have anything to say?”

The priest raises his eyebrows. Dean stares at him for full second, and realizes he is being teased.

Well, two can play this game. Without constraint, Dean licked his lips in exaggeration while his eyes roam at the covered body of his priest. He will be punished yes, and he awaits that now, Dean thinks smugly. His god stares at him with a blank look but the curling of his lips almost has Dean thinking he is getting through.

It sends a wild excitement and his groin is up and about in expectation. Dean watches the priest see him and with a coil, a thought to reach his cock and stroke in front of him gnawed at the gladiator. But like a phantom that appears and disappears when it means to, the priest is gone.

Dean sighs and pats his member sadly. He looks down himself and smirks at the perfect curves despite the reddening and blackening spots and number of pasted cloths to cover the healing wounds. He does not find shame in exposing himself. Yet his god’s complete indifference to carnal desire puzzles him. How priests practice ultimate control, he will never know. Unless his fuck of a voice returns.

He finished his meal and the prepared medicine. It was repulsive at first, but quite effective, he can actually hum while chewing on the grapes. The lady servant returned after an hour, but this time Dean is careful. He wraps his lower body with the blanket modestly and lets her get the ceramics. She still refuses to look him in the eyes even when handing him his toga and pallium. Dean planted his back on the edge of the bed, looking at his wounds. It had been cared for. He wonders if it was the servants who healed him. At the back of his mind he knew exactly who was with him last night.

Two more concoction that day had Dean coughing but by the time he fell asleep he can actually murmur. His throat felt much better. He wonders if the priest would visit him again tonight. With his head feeling much better, he just knows it’s no longer possible for him to choose sleep than his libido. When he wakes up a strong urge to masturbate seizes on him. He reaches for his already hard wood and begins to jerk himself.

Castiel in his high priest robe is the only thing in his mind and it’s enough to get him off. He remembers every touch of the angel, the feel of his soft skin, his expression when he comes, the way he passionately says Dean’s name. Just Cas…

He lays on the bed with semen all over his body and thinks… he knows it isn’t enough. He gets up, grabs a waist subligaria, trying to be a bit modest in case the maidens are around.

Dean slowly opens the door of his room on to the dark hallway. He only slipped on the plain palla provided for him that morning, which he didn’t use the entire day. He wore it now for the sake of modesty if an all-out riot was to occur. But really, unlike his previous preference of fighting bare body, it was not in his advantage to be seen covered in wounds and cuts. So wrapping it around his good shoulder and waist, the man of the night stalked the night.

He has no idea of the time, but the empty hallway and position of the moon from the high window told him much of past midnight. He peers around on corners. He had no chance to come out of his room for the past days with strict ministration from the priest to stay on the bed. Confined in his room, he can only watch the servants and his priest going left and right when they leave the room. Dean slipped outside and headed immediately left. That’s usually where he sees the priest turn when returning to his quarters.

But the villa’s scale is unexpected. Yes, Dean’s room is four times than the insula he used to rent by the city, but the atrium itself is as large as the next temple. The walls are covered in darkness, but the length of the columns holding the tall ceiling is palpable. Dean could see consecrated statues on each corner, walls with decorative drapes and Etruscan designs and each door he passed laced with detailed patterns. He walked on the cold floor in his bare feet, trying to be as silent as he could. He found he was located in the second floor by the railings in the middle. He strode there to check below and saw the main atrium empty. Dean looked behind him, before squaring the railings to see doorways on the walls.

Whoever’s presence it was that he could sense, Dean is determined to find the priest first. He never forgot how he was finally able to get the priest’s attention by throwing a dagger in his assassin’s face. It isn’t uncommon for High Priests to be in danger of being assassinated. The High Priest is the most important position and most powerful of Roman religious office. It’s one of the most coveted rank in the Empire. Politicians, military and even the Imperial family itself want to take control of the power. It is the second highest position to an Emperor. Or at least the second most influential as it is the job of the Highest Priest to give religious advices to the emperor. With the Emperor gone, the High Priest is expected to act in his absence. Dean is sure not everyone is in favor of that, those old fellows.

Dean stops for a moment, holding on his ribs as a shoot of pain reminded him of the injury. But what got to him is the vast number of hallways and rooms. He quickly checked each of the other large rooms. There are five more in the same floor plus the reading room but the priest was not in them. Urgency filled him. He kept looking behind him for any threat but nothing in the dark moved. Turning to the railings overviewing the lower atrium, Dean suddenly spotted the opposite wing of the villa. Direct to him is another set of room while beside him a wall blocked the rest of the opposite side. There clearly is an imbalance in the position of the rooms. The man blinked and stared at the wall on his left. It was large with no doorways visible. Quietly he ran his palms on the wall till his hand found a latch. Heart beating fast, he turned the knob. It was considerably heavy but he managed.

Dean watches in amazement as double doors made of stone opened for him leading to a circular stone staircase heading down. Light is coming from the torches attached on the walls. With a blink the man glanced behind him one last time before closing it securely and heading down.

Echoes of his steps made most of the sound. Dean slowly made progress, not wanting to make a wrong move and tumble on the steps. His sense of balance is good, he has rested enough. But the unexpected excitement from his chest is keeping him from not tripping. He knew the priest is there and he is being pulled. The stone steps went for minutes and Dean is sure he is already trespassing on earth.

At the last curve of the stair, Dean halted and gaped. In front of him was a chamber larger than the whole floor combined from above. A hall made of stonewall met his eyes lit with four large torches on each side. A large stone pool can be found in the middle elevated by six steps. It was the size of the atrium on the ground floor. Above it is a large statue of the Mithra but what really got Dean staring is the number of aquatic plants floating above the pool. The blue flowers floated on petals. Its bluish spiky leaves open with golden buds. Dean never remembered stepping down the ground and walking towards the pool, but he was there anyway. He stares in awe, before travelling his eyes around. There were no particular decorations on the stone wall but when he fixed his eyes on the shadowed ceiling, he can visibly see the moon on a circular crack. He pulls his eyes back on the water and sees the moon reflected there.

The flowers seem to incline to its light more. Dean takes a precarious step backward realizing where he was. This is a temple. This is where the High Priest cleanses himself—

Out of nowhere the wall in front of him is pushed open. Double doors reveal itself and from there emerge a figure of supreme beauty. Black hair tousled around wildly, blue eyes glinting with the sparkle of torch light in his eyes. He only wore a loosely hanging toga on his bare shoulder, the rest of his front open for the eyes to see. Dean can only stare at the apparition with his head light. He gasps suddenly when the High Priest’s eyes fell on him and stops walking.

A slight surprise graced his beautiful features that gets concealed with the pressing of his lips.

They stare at each other for a length of full minute, Dean swallowing hard, unable to pry his eyes away from the god of his dreams. Silently, Dean wonders if the priest is hiding any weapon under… well, anywhere in his silky toga because the man is sure if the enemies outside did not manage to cut him, the High Priest will.

But he couldn’t pull his eyes from the priest’s pleasing body. All his dreams are nothing close to the real thing. He was snapped from his stupor when the High Priest began walking in his direction.

Oh highest fuck. 

Dean watches mesmerized as the High Priest made his way up the stone steps to his level. Once they stood a foot from one another, Dean tries his best not to look anywhere below and concentrated on the startling blue eyes. It was no use. Everything about this holy man is too… precious. The Priest is too distractingly beautiful that Dean can literally watch him all day.

The priest on the other hand seems to consider him for a moment, before a sigh escaped his lips.

“What are you doing here?” he asks placatingly. There is no accusation in his voice, just plain curiosity.

Dean grabbed the edge of the pool to support himself so as not to fall on his knees. The pressure with standing too close with the man is too overpowering. So is it really true that priests can communicate with the gods and can wield their spiritual power? Dean didn’t realize how dry his lips had become as he struggles to answer.

Why is he there…?

“You…” he began, his throat rumbling.

The priest catches his eyes, too intent and searching deep in his soul. Dean hissed at the pain in his side.

“You can speak?”

Dean’s eyes widen. He looks up to find the priest still looking at him. Indeed, he can speak. After three cups of the concoction prepared by the Highest Priest of the Roman Empire himself, of course he will heal. Without thinking, the man steps forward boldly and yanked the priest’s left arm. Castiel is not fazed, he immediately takes Dean's wrist, turn it the other way and before Dean knows what's happening- thinking the angel will throw him off the floor- Castiel only quietly plunges his right hand on the pool of blue flowers.

Dean watches him with eyebrows furrowed when he pulls a vial from its bottom. Cas shows it to him in an eye-level before uncorking it.

“This is the last of your mixture to heal your throat. Savor it.”

Dean sees the priest take it in one swig in his own mouth. Then his hands slip on Dean’s neck and pulls him down. Castiel is seriously strong as Dean finds himself easily manhandled into his arms so that he clings on his arms for support. Dean’s eyes widen.

“Then thank whoever god you’ve got cause you’re pretty. And I only do this for pretty.” Dean stole a chaste kiss from the surprised priest before pulling away. He smiles at the curious look that lingered at the angel’s face. “You know, Cas— you’re more than what you think you are.”

“Who do you think I am?”

“An angel. My angel.” He reaches for Cas’ hand and kisses them. The slap on his face is surprising but he doesn’t flinch. It's not that he and Cas aren't into physically hurting each other, but for the priest who just saved him from the gallows after he tried abducting him, Castiel's actions are as confusing as hell-

“You act so familiar and yet—”

“It’s Dean. I told you many times.” he says simply. “And I…” he stops. Castiel still looks at him with stranger’s eyes but it isn’t this that gets Dean sighing. “I…why did you save me?"

Castiel only sweeps his long lashes on his rosy cheeks and no matter how beautiful he does it, Dean will always choose to see the blue orbs intense on him. Isn’t this what he’s been after? To have Cas looking at him again. Now that he is, a tiny part of Dean is screaming. Because Cas… Cas is here and yet so far…

“I did not think you as a man with too open emotion, being one who can kill those demons and fight those gladiators."

"Yes, uh... thank you for sending me there."

Castiel shakes his head, blue eyes steeling. "It was a mistake. They took you when I came back-"

"Why did you come back? You know what I did."

Castiel stays his eyes on the water. "I do not know. I suppose, some part of me remembers you." The comment surprises Dean. Castiel is studying him from up close. "Everything you told me...I don't think they're fabricated. I don't see those green eyes lie, not even to save yourself. I don't know, you confuse me. But I can clearly see that you are still under this curse. You are unable to escape from it."

"Had not time to deal with it, to be honest. All I want is to keep you safe."

Castiel frowns. "You would risk your life... for me?"

Dean's face grew serious as he takes a step towards the angel and caresses his soft cheek. The skin that shines over the moonlight, not even this pure pond's reflection do it justice.

"I'd die for you."

Castiel catches his wrist, a painful crack on his eyes. "I do not believe I want that."

Dean smiles, finger slowly sliding down the priest's lips. He loves to take Cas here and now. Wants to make love to him if Castiel only lets him. But Dean controls himself. He cannot always be willed by his libido, dammit. Instead, he focuses on the angel's red lips. It burned his insides, even made him hard by just looking. God, how he missed Castiel.

"You amaze me, Cas... even... even like this... why do you protect me?"

"I don't know. Why do you look at me like your very breath depends on me?"

"Cause it does. Cause I love you."

Silence and blue eyes filled Dean. The hunter's eyes widen a little when finally, after what felt like forever, Castiel is looking at him. Just him. The angel even took as far as step closer to Dean's space, all separation forgotten.

"Cas..."

"Seems like a long shot from that shack you kept me where demons attacked. It seems a bit... sloppy." Cas smiles.

“For a date, it sucks, yeah.” He grins but when the angel frowns at the lack of understanding, the hunter clears his throat and looks down his hands. Cas will always see through him. This is his Cas and yet not. The agony deep in Dean is overwhelming, he wonders if he can make it back in his room without breaking into a run.

“Decanus... Dean?… look at me.”

Dean does and he sees a hand reach up to him.

"Do you remember me, Cas?" he wished he can remove that cloud of acknowledgement from the angel who shakes his head. Dean's heart ached just a little. But Cas is near him now, right? Shouldn't that be enough...?

"Then... are we going to stay like this forever?"

"I don't know. I do not hold all the answers. I too am the victim here."

"No... you only became one cause you got to know me. I really want to send you back to Sam, Cas... want you safe there because this place is not for you." Dean doesn't miss how Castiel took the initiative to slowly wrap his arm around Dean's waist. Like he's testing it. Dean tries not to comment on it, afraid that Cas would pull away.

"You keep speaking of this Sam so fondly." the priest says, inclining his head on one side which nearly has Dean crying in memory.

"My..." his voice breaks, "he's my nerdy ball of a younger brother. He's out there waiting for us, Cas...". It's true. He doesn't remember how long it's been for Sam. The last time he saw his brother and now seems too far away. Like decades. But Sam's safe there. Castiel watches him curiously.

"Then why are you only... why do you speak of going back to this time line as if you do not belong there anymore."

"I told you I'm already a dead man." Dean breaths, eyes shining. "The moment that god marked me... I'm a deadman."

"You have been under his curse for awhile now and this Castiel of yours did not even find a way to save you?"

"I didn't let him. He's... there were so many things happening... it's all confusing..."

The next thing, Castiel is wiping a tear that has so carelessly fallen on Dean’s cheek. The gesture brought forth more emotion than Dean can handle and he would have turned but the priest is holding his cheeks with both hands now. Dean blinks at him. Cas is looking right at him, deadpan expression yes, but there’s that tiny frown that covers his entire features. Dean leans on his touch. Cas is warm. So warm.

“It does not do good for you to cry… your eyes are too beautiful… why do you break so easy, Dean?"

Dean does not answer. Everything that fills him after that is his love for this particular angel who never ceases to care for him. Castiel who never cease not to see his pain, like he's meant to see everything in Dean, amnesiac or not. Dean has always been a man of action and he takes both the priest’s curve of wrists and pulls him closer. By then even Castiel seems unsure whether he wants to or not, but he doesn’t resist. Cas' lips are soft, and Dean suckles on his top and bottom lip, eagerly wanting to taste inside again.

Then Cas opens his lips and Dean takes the chance to dip in.The kiss they explored next is beyond the limit of what Dean thought possible the way Cas is so wary of him. He gathers the angel to his arms and pulls, really pulls him tight, chest to chest, hips to hips till no amount of space can find where they begin and end. The kiss deepened and Cas begins to fumble from Dean’s grasp.

Dean tightened his grip, afraid of losing him forever.

“Stay in my arms… Cas… _please…” _

Castiel stops squirming but his voice is deadly.

_“Let me go.”_

When Dean reluctantly did, the priest hurries away, leaving him empty and cold. What the hell?

“I don’t know what you are doing… but I would ask you to return to your room.”

“Cas—”

“Under no circumstances are you to touch me again. Or I will chain you in the cellar myself.”

Dean doesn’t see any hesitation in the priest’s eyes. Quietly he turns and leaves. But he knows those blue eyes followed him out of the room.

* * *

Castiel doesn’t visit his room for the next two days that Dean is in recovery. The hunter stays curb on his bed. The maidens come to tend to his wounds and he knows they got a thing for him, but knowing he’s with Castiel under one roof is driving him crazy. They haven't spoken since that night. It would have been okay to Dean if only Castiel at least showed himself in his room once or twice. 

He did see the angel once that two days- that's when Cas comes out of his room naked, very much unlike his usual self, wearing nothing, not even a rag to cover his soft cock that comes into Dean's full view the moment he steps outside his room.

The two freezes on the spot, Castiel loftily lifting his chin while Dean just stares, his mouth falling open. He remembers Cas' body like the back of his hand, the curves of his muscled hips, the tone of his abs, the contor of his pectorals, the heft of his cock. For all of this to be presented to Dean so out of reach is cruel.

Torture. He feels his mouth dry and he was not subtle with how his eyes stays at the hips of the priest. Castiel looks as if he want to ask what the matter has been, follows Dean's gaze and blinks up at him with raise eyebrows. The priest did not move from his position though.

"You seem awfully interested." he says quietly.

Dean heats up and changes the angel of his body. He can almost feel his own cock reacting but ignores it. Instead, he rubs a palm at the back of his neck.

"You really walk around this naked?"

"It is my abode. I do not see any reason to hide from within his walls."

"Yeah but... you got visitors, you know... visitors who..." Dean clears his throat, "Isn't so affected. You know you're beautiful."

There's no answer so Dean risks another glance. To find that Castiel is staring at him wide eyed with color starting on his pale cheeks. Castiel is blushing and seems unaware of it. Dean's heart skips a beat and he would have said more except Cas stalks away, leaving him staring at those familiar round ass he use to bless with his lips.

"Dammit." Dean looks down his erection helplessly.

* * *

Castiel's shadow hasn't graced the entire villa after that, depressing Dean more than ever because yeah, the reason for his survival for the previous months is his objective to get Cas. Now that the angel has let him... why did it feel like they are drifting farther than closer together?

So one day, when he’s able to, he jumps out of bed again. Feeling mighty healthy and capable, he walks around the house. There’s a ruckus outside the gate and Dean looks outside to see the handmaidens all looking frighteningly at the bulky

“Hey.” He calls, glare in his eyes. “Let them go.”

“Are you Decanus?”

“So?”

“You’re under arrest and if anyone of you resists, all of you will be taken to the gallows.”

Dean looks at the maiden. Cas is nowhere in sight. Quietly, he goes with them. He is roughly handled and quickly bounded.

_Great. Torture fest again._

Dean grunts at the new pain when his arms are forced back into a stretch, followed by binding ropes tightening on his wrists. He gripped his fists and tried not to yank the rough bonds. He never liked ropes. He prefers the chain if it comes to it. Ropes tend burn the skin and stop the blood flow if too tight, but when a gag is forced in his mouth, grimly he knew his fun day is just about to start. He glared at the guards, towering at them with intended intimidation. He is at least a foot taller with robust muscles that shaped his tunic even with its layers and he is a tad stronger. He could easily overpower them already imagining smashing one’s head on the wall and striking the second with his elbow.

Yet he did not resist the arrest even with instinct wildly suggesting to fight. He doesn’t know if Cas is behind this and if he is…

Dean pauses.

So unable to stop the apprehension, Dean satisfied himself with dark glares at his captors. He is rewarded to see they looked hesitant for a moment before dragging him out of the reading room.

Two guards with spears, wearing yellow tunics in chainmail and helmet held him with caution on both sides, an attribution likely for his reputation as a gladiator who killed an Imperial guard beforehand. Dean didn’t have to fight them. He is a willing participant and knows he only needs to explain to his god the mistake.

His hope to redeem himself vanquishes when he realizes they are dragging him towards the large entrance of the villa. Dean wasn’t sure if it was a good idea not to fight back, but the moment of hesitation has escaped when his feet left the gates and is thrown inside a waiting prison carriage. The two guards did not climb after him and that is about enough for Dean to know something else is amiss. The cage was locked before he could make any further protest, his hand in balls of fists. He reaches on the bars and shook it angrily. He gives a death glare to the four other guards surrounding the cage wearing the familiar red and bronze Praetorian guards uniform.

Something else is going on.

Eyes followed the procession with Dean barely concealed by the bars. Quietly letting the events fold, he sits back and crosses his legs. There is no point in argument when one cannot talk, but it might just be the drawback when he meets whoever it was the sent for him. Dean isn’t dumb, the waiting chariot outside the villa, the key on the reading room, everything is flat out a scheme. Someone is watching the villa closely. He wonders dimly who he will meet at the end of the road and what this person has against his god. Whoever they are, Dean will have to make a quick decision if they are a threat to Castiel or not. But does he need to ask when he is already being carried away?

Dean cools his head while he tries to relax his aching jaw. The gag is pulled back too give him room to adjust. He watches from a far as Castiel’s villa upon the Capitone Hill disappear. With a sinking feeling, he wonders when he can return or if he could. The burning desire to meet his god after reading his scribbles has Dean sitting rigidly. He remembers the priest’s deadpan expression and the curl of his lips. It has to be purely seduction because that’s all Dean can think it is. He has to return to Castiel even with broken bones or snapped neck. All be damned, he will.

The trip took about an hour to reach its destination, and when it did, Dean is unsurprised to find the carriage stopping at the back of Forum Romanum, the center of the city. It is broad daylight and citizens fill the capitol on the other side. That doesn’t make sense. Having a prisoner in the middle of the day doesn’t seem like a plot, but a public execution. To show example to any untoward action. Dean starts. He raises his head from left to right. Praetorian guards nod at each other and open the cage, hauling Dean down till his knees once healed, once again scrapes on the floor.

He grits his teeth when they jerk him to stand. It was the moment Dean saw a stern looking Praetorian guard wearing a decorative helmet, metal breast plate atop his red tunic. Dean senses the man trying to intimidate him as he walks close. He is taller than Dean when they finally face each other. Dean holds his ground despite being an inch shorter, following the heavy frown of the Praetorian leader.

“Ave, centurion!” greets the two lower ranking guards.

Dean meets the man’s frown with own eyes widening a little. _A centurion meeting him in the middle of the city?_ Centurions are famous army legionary officers who leads a hundred soldier on the battlefield. Dean clamped on the gag, eyes not leaving the officer. His questioning stare reaches the man who raises an eyebrow.

“This is the gladiator?” he nods the lower ranked officer who responded an affirmative. “He looks dangerous enough. Where is the Pontifex Maximus? Has he been alerted?”

Dean stayed still. They are talking about his muse.

“His household guard has been sent as dispatch to the Temple of Concord. The ceremony doesn’t take place till mid-afternoon. It will take another hour for any judicial read since this is his slave.”

“I cannot wait that long. I lead a unit outside the walls and had them wait. But if he is the man who killed one of my men in the arena, I only see it fit that he gets punished by in the Praetorian way before his execution. I do not understand why the Highest Priest would even take him as a slave. It is no surprise that the Forum is appalled. All of this trouble after I explicitly told him he should be careful since the Emperor is absent. Five attempts in his life in broad daylight is already too bold to be ignored.”

Dean shifts, his eyes meeting that of the centurion again. He wants to say something. He wants to ask many things but the gag in his mouth and the damage in his throat all but prevented him. The spark in his eyes didn’t go unnoticed as the centurion turned to him darkly.

“I do not know what arrangement has been set that you ended in the Highest Priest’s home rather than the gallows. Better yet, the guillotine. Had I been there you would be screaming the name of the people who put you on the trails of the Pontiff.” He smiles a little when he observes the mark on Dean’s neck. “So, you have been punished? The Highest Priest is not to be underestimated. Either he sees through you and wants to use you to get to his enemies. Or like that—punish you himself. He can be cruel when he needs to. Nevertheless, you have been caught in act against your master and your fate now lies in the proper authorities if your master does not intervene. I do not think that will be a problem. Put him in the public pillory and a placard to his crime. Add the murder of one of our elites and let the public decide his death.”

The word _execution _did not really alarm Dean. The fact that there are attempts on Castiel’s life has him thinking of how stupid it had been to leave the villa and not stay by his side. How could he know? _He didn’t know what’s happening to Castiel or where he went— barely even got his name today. _

This has Dean taking a step backward till he felt a guard hold his arm. Then he is being dragged away from the shadow of the forum, on to the bright sky in the middle of the street. But he isn’t paying attention. He remembers Castiel’s orders _not to leave_ and would like to run back there immediately. But getting kicked on his knees with neck getting trapped on the pillory would not make it easy. His neck ached at the clasps of wood around him, his knees have had enough of being thrown around. His arms behind don’t care anymore. But as Dean raises his eyes to the audience that begin to gather around him, he doesn’t know what to expect. Most petty criminals such as thieves usually earns scorn and disapproval from the general onlookers. A kick and slap here and there, thrown of stones to the helpless soul trapped between the wood of death. But when murder is included, a sudden shift happens. A kind of domination against the life of another that has been persecuted. _Bloodlust coils and everyone else is capable of murder._ Like an arena where everyone is the fighter without rules whatsoever. The moment the placard is perched beneath him, Dean knows he is about to witness just that.

“He killed a guard?”

_“That gladiator?”_

_“That’s him!”_

“He stole from the Pontifex Maximus kind enough to forgive him!”

_“He_ _hasn’t been killed?”_

“They make us do it!”

There it was. Excitement. The _thrill._ The moment when humans are given the window to abandon all reason and be on their natural instinct to just act.

Dean watches them step closer warily, his face relaxing into what he believes to be _grit._

It began with a blow on his cheek. Dean’s head rolls as a foot connected with his face. Then stones rained upon him, hitting him squarely on the head, chin and nose. Blood oozes freely from his forehead but the unrelentless kick around his stomach from behind has him gagging back blood to his throat, choking painfully till his knees sag, his head spinning. His body barely hang to support his trapped neck. For a moment he thought they had stopped.

Only to realize his body has grown numb. His previous injuries haven’t healed completely despite his initial bouncing about the villa. He remembers Castiel’s warning of tying him on the bed. How he wished it had come true instead of being here with blood trickling down his jaw, his body already limp from different attacks. Too damaged. He can only put up because his body has much experience with torture previously. And unless he gets his head axed, Dean just knows this will go on forever as long as his limbs are intact.

_Because survival is more than just instinct, his body is prone to it. _

His head is aching terribly, a ringing sound is meddling in his ears. He has this notion that even if he dies, so long as body is connected, his soul will come back from the beyond. _Never dying because he refuses to. _He chuckles at the thought as darkness consumes him. _He sounds ridiculous._

* * *

Blue eyes in the middle of the raging fire flashed in his mind and Dean gasped for breath, his eyes shooting open. Vague sounds rang in his ears. He blinks in pain as his head spin. Then the pavement to where he is looking for some reason is filled with blood. _His blood._ Dean grunted as he tasted his own blood. He is gagged. A paused as he tries to remember which dungeon he is now. Then he notices that the sky is still bright, there is no fire raging about. But Dean recoils as sensation in his body slowly returns from his burning arms…. Fuck that everything about him is burning.

A little more breathing and he remembers where he is. He tries to lift his head that has become accustomed the blows. He expects another since the shadow of the pillory from the direct sunlight only moved about half an hour around him if he remembers correctly. There is no way this is finished.

He lifts his head. Or he thinks he did. It is too heavy a head. He grunts and sighs, his jaw locking on the bloody cloth in his mouth but he has no power left to push it stubbornly away from his tongue. He watches drool and blood drip from his lips. Somebody ought to call the executioner if these people are not planning to finish the job they started. He wants to shout that to them. Wants them to be men.

Better yet, _fight me!_

A white, delicate hand reaches down and slowly lifts his chin up. Dean arched his head and leveled with the most picturesque beauty he has ever set his eyes on. A tug in his heart has him remembering his muse and with a smile of delight perking in his eyes as he remembers the scribbles—Dean pushes forward eagerly, unmindful of his locked neck. He knows his name—everything is still in a blur—but how could he forget? It is the sweetest name.

_Castiel._

The firm face of the priest hasn’t change but Dean sees his jaw begins to set. The gladiator felt immense thrill when Castiel runs his thumb on his chin and desperately nuzzled to his touch. The touch disappears and Dean sees the delicate hand form a fist. He looks up just in time to see the once blank blue eyes flickered dangerously as he stands up.

A Praetorian guard approached the priest from the back. A Praetorian guard approached Castiel who kept his darkened blue eyes fixed at Dean. Dean on the other hand tries to keep up, hungrily memorizing the scenic exterior, but his head swims and he has to bow again. The guard is whispering something Dean cannot hear. He looks up in time to see a visible contraction graced the dominant brows. Then Castiel is glaring when he grabs the sword from the surprised guard and pointed it at the gladiator.

The priest’s expression is hard and for a moment, the sword hung between them. Dean met his eyes and gazes back in earnest.

Dean watches in amazement as the priest wields it with confidence and with blinding flash—had the pillory cut in two. Dean falls forward, eyes wide and worried about his neck. But Castiel is there to catch him. Dean’s head fell on his shoulder and allowed himself to breath as the priest removes his gag and threw it away before slicing the ropes binding his hand.

There are muffled voices and Castiel only responds tartly. Dean can feel his tense body. Can feel the rage building inside his muse but he had no power to quell him. He decides he will stay his nose buried on his master’s neck. He is sure Castiel is whispering on his ear, asking or commanding him of something about movement and up. The only up Dean can think of is the playful tug on his groin despite his beaten form.

When nothing happened for the next second, Dean felt his feet leave the ground. He gasps in surprise but when he finds himself wrapped in his muse’s arms, he forgets everything. Damn, Castiel is strong. More than he lets on. Dean can only look at him from where his head rests in his shoulder. The prominent chin, the strong jaw and nose… his raging blue eyes. Just like that time.

The next thing, Dean’s body is pressed on the seat of the carriage, Castiel sitting next to him. Dean is glad the priest still has him wrapped in his arm with the toga almost blanketing him. He isn’t sure he likes to find the mess he has made with the pristine clothing. Isn’t sure he wants to know. He dips his nose in the priest’s neck again.

Not a moment next, Castiel is whispering in his ear.

“I’m here, Decanus… you will be okay.”

But before Dean can believe him, there’s another commotion outside. Castiel stiffens when he looks out of the carriage and even Dean can see a number of spears and

“Forgive us, your excellency. But we are given a new order—_Decanus, the gladiator will be surrender to the Emperor.”_

Dean wants to sit properly to have a good look at the Praetorian guards, but Castiel’s arms on him get tighter. He can feel Castiel’s shoulder tense, and knows he’s the reason. Slowly, he pulls away from the priest, eyes determined.

“It’s okay, Cas.” He tells him, smiling, “Thank you for coming for me.”

Castiel stares at him. Dean doesn’t hesitate to slide off the chariot, onto the waiting arms of the guards who quickly binds his already worn wrists, but Dean has already made up his mind.

The emperor will not find Cas again. He has seen how Nero had looked at Cas. If Dean has to keep him busy, he will but he will die first before he lets anyone, anyone who’s hungry for Castiel take him.

* * *

Hours later, he woke up at the instinctive feeling that there were other people surrounding the room. He is kneeling, or at least that’s how he finds his eyes opening to his wounded legs, the subligaria around his waist stained with blood. He looks up and finds himself in front of the man whose attention makes Dean’s skin crawl.

Emperor Nero. The fucking emperor.

Nero surveys Dean through dark lashes and kneels before him. Dean gives him a brazen straight look, and if there’s no fear for any gods or Titans in his reservoir, certainly there isn’t one for an emperor. He holds Nero’s gaze, but much aware of Castiel’s eyes at the back of his head. Cas doesn’t remember him. Cas doesn’t recognize him. Will he be like Prometheus who kept dying and reviving not knowing who he is? Dean shouldave known something shitty like this was to happen. Shouldave known Cas will always get the end of the straw. It isn’t the first time Cas has been memory impaired or tampered… but Dean is still afraid for him. Afraid that when Cas awakens and remembers him, it’ll be too late. He’s got to make Cas remember before either of them gets screwed up. Before Cas gets to blame himself to everything that happened.

This determination fixes itself on the hunter’s eyes that he burns the Emperor with his eyes. Nero’s eyes flicker and darkly, he tilts his head.

“You are the one I have heard so much of?” he begins in a drawling voice. Dean keeps his thin lips pressed. The guy is barely his size with slinky body and long limbs. He bets underneath all those fabrics is just another dude relinquishing power. Dean has never thought kindly of people in power. Not when they irk with so much evil mojo like typical demon. Dean has learned to trust his guts.

The man stands up. Dean doesn’t flinch but he stares squarely in those threatening ones. What does this guy want?

“You are… interesting. I have not seen anyone so bold and confident and…” his eyes flitted down Dean’s body like it’s a one’s over, “intense. Who are you? What is your connection to the High Priest?” he palms a hand on Dean’s chest, caressing the hunter’s anti-possession tattoo. You both have quite a remarkable mark of the sun…”

Dean grinds his teeth as the rest of the emperor’s words are lost to him. How the hell did this guy know Cas has an anti-possession tattoo? The mark only seen on the angel’s right side that Dean loves to kiss every time.

Dean acted promptly, disguising any recognition of the name. He didn’t give the guy the idea that he knows Cas. Castiel has secured a safe place for now acting like some beautiful priest. Dean isnt going to put him in any dangerous position. He’s gotta keeep it cool.

He’s gotta keep Cas safe.

Dean tilts his chin, knowing the effect of his exposed neck to any lust driven soul and made the bait. He pierces his eyes to the Emperor whom he saw has the expected reaction. Nero’s eyes flickered to Dean’s body again.

That’s good. Eyes on the prize.

Nero closed the distance between him and the gladiator so he stands before the kneeling man. Dean grits his teeth as Nero slides a hand down to his chin till the tip of his finger tilts his sharp jaw line, up to his chin. Dean is wary of the thumb that traces his bottom lip, pressing it open he almost tastes the grapes.

“You have beautiful lips.” Nero says, eyes looking hungry, aroused, “I shall make use of that in my chamber. I wonder what you sound like when I. make you cry.”

Dean’s body shivers but he only clenches his jaw tight. Nero looks demented as he caressed Dean’s cheek.

“I shall break you.”

“Enough.” Castiel’s deep voice hit Dean like lightning. He looks pass Nero to the silhouette of the angel of the lord, eyes glowing blue, dark is his expression. Nero doesn’t even have the time to register as Cas puts two fingers on his forehead. The emperor’s pupils shot back up his skull and he crumple on the floor, unconscious.

Dean stares at Castiel, his angel—no the High Priest of Rome—looking down at him darkly. Where and how the priest manages to get inside, Dean can already think of a hallway of sleeping Roman soldiers outside. Anger and relief flooded the angel because then—_ fuck!_

“You’re insane.” He blurts out when he’s able to, half angry half he doesn’t know what. He sees Cas’ eyes narrows. The high priest then steps forward, takes a hold of Dean’s chained collar and heaves him up—straight to a deep kiss.

Dean enthusiastically responds. When the passion ended, Cas stares Dean in the eyes.

_“You’re mine.”_

“_Fuck, yes!” _Dean moans, catching the angel’s lips he sorely missed.


	19. The Wolf with his Teeth, the Bull with His Horns

_**Lupus dentis, Taurus cornis** _

* * *

Once upon a time, Dean would ever imagine being embraced so closely and with so much want would make him melt. Castiel does that to him, this _priest_ who was his angel- who at present is still his lover. Castiel who's more demanding, more in charge. Not that Dean doesn't adore Castiel before, but the way the priest makes him feel- submissive at times- is an incredible realization.

Dean gasps when he feels Castiel’s hips press back on his. He spreads his legs wide to accommodate the hot angel between his legs and feels their cocks—skin to skin, length to length and wet trails of precum—rub together. He lets Cas drive him insane as the angel ruts into him while his mouth is busy marking Dean’s neck.

God how he missed Cas. He claws his hands under Cas’ armpits and hugs him closer.

But this is really not the time, and though Dean isn’t one to stop because one between the two of them he isn’t the king of _self-control, _but the pressing matter of an emperor right behind their neck needs even a second of their precious time. He settles a strong grip on the priest’s shoulder and pushes him

“Cas—Cas!”

“What?” Cas hisses impatiently. He takes hold of Dean’s wrists and pushes them on each side of the wall. Dean groans when Cas sucks on his neck again, knee pressing up his bulge, feeling him. Dean grins at the eagerness, but puts firm hands on Cas’ chest and pushes him a little.

“We’re still at the entrance, barely making it to the bedroom…”

“So?” growls the priest, crowding Dean on the wall again, biting on his neck, both hands sliding under Dean’s ass cheeks, cupping them and pulling him up, almost carrying Dean.

_“Fuck!”_ Dean sighs as he gets lifted. He wraps his legs around the angel’s and pulls him, his hard cock pressing on Castiel’s firm torso. “_Dammit, take me then!”_

“You’re not ready.” Cas mutters, whispering on Dean’s lobe biting in annoyance. “He didn’t get to touch you…?

“Ng— no.”

“Good. I won’t… I can’t stand the thought of anyone touching you. I… not even any Emperor or gods…”

“How…” Dean raises his chin when Castiel’s hot lips suckle his throat, “how d’you know where to find…?”

“There’s only one place he’s bound to put you.” Cas growls, fingers sliding on the crack between Dean’s ass cheeks and caressing in. Dean shivers and tightens his hold around Cas’ shoulder. "His _Domus Aurea..._The Golden House in the heart of the city where he likes to keep his toys." There's an angry hiss from Castiel, hands tight on Dean's skin. "He wants to take you and make you his under that secret palace...do everything he pleases to you..." Cas leans on his collar and bites his skin. Dean grits his teeth, enjoying the sensation anyway.

"Yeah, I heard he's kinda horny."

"He will not take you, Dean."

Dean huffs when Cas presses on him again, hard rocking cock of the priest already making Dean’s mouth water. “Fuck, Cas just do it—_I want you inside me.”_

“No.” Cas trails Dean’s neck with his sharp nose, “Don’t want to hurt you.” Dean buries his head on Cas shoulder whilst the angel suddenly heaves him closer. Dean slides to his body. Cas begins walking with mouth peppering kisses on the hunter.

Dean chuckle and catches his lips. He doesn’t know where Cas is taking him, but he will stay because this is everything he’s ever wanted. To have Cas in his arms again. Cas may have lost his memory of him but his body does remember, otherwise Cas would not respond like this to him. What the mind forgets, the body will always remember.

Dean’s glad he’s made such an impression.

He’s busy trying to rut his ignored cock when he realizes they are descending. Dean opens his eyes and see them pass torches, familiar brick walls meet his eyes and the firm step of the priest on stone stairs. He kisses Cas, but is mildly aware of the scent that bursts in his nose. That fucking sent that drove him to insanity once upon a time.

Before long, Cas gently drops him on uneven surface and Dean feels another jolt of arousal when Cas puts hands on his knees and spreads him wide. He moans when the angel sinks beneath him, taking hold of his already bursting member and sucks on him avidly.

Dean slumps back the steps, feeling the edges of the stone steps digging behind him. Castiel laps on his chest, up to his neck, hands pressing Dean’s wrists back down on each side of his head. He pulls up enough only to look Dean in the eye and the hunter drowns in that lustly, blown blues he’s seen in Cas many times.

“I’m going to take you.”

“You don’t need my permission for that.” Dean raises his head and catches Cas’ lips to his. They trade deep kisses, then Cas fucks him hard. Dean’s moan can be heard all through out the cave.

Castiel quietly carries Dean on the pool and drops the hunter’s flush body, fresh from sex, after glow and sinks behind him. He cradles Dean close and plants a wet kiss on the man’s neck.

“You are so beautiful.” Cas murmurs, nuzzling Dean’s neck with his nose. Dean sighs. “Don’t ever leave me like that again, Decanus. Don’t make decisions I never meant to choose.”

“Like what?”

“You. Placing yourself in the hands of others. I will let no such thing again.”

“He’s the fucking emperor.”

“And he does not touch anything that I own.”

Dean brightens. "You... you remember?"

Castiel shakes his head, but quickly replies when he sees the disappointment in those green eyes.

"I don't think what I feel for you has something to do with memory. You... the very person that you are Dean is engraved in me. I do not think this body considers you a stranger... every time our lips meet, every time you are near I feel... I feel the need to just climb on you. You have no idea how long I've wanted to take you the moment I saved you. I do not think words are enough to describe what I feel, but Dean... I know now. I only want you."

Dean catches his lips into the deepest kiss he can give the angel. Cas responds. 

"Cas- I want want you-" he mutters, ghosting his lips on those plush pink and letting the angel's stubble graze his nose. "I love you, Cas... Fucking in love with you."

"I know. I can feel you... wherever you are..." Castiel sighs when Dean's tongue nips inside his mouth, tasting every corner and playfully pulling on his lips. There's a groan that escapes the hunter when he pulls out and eyes the high priest. "I just want to eat you."

"But this day must've been very trying. I have a ceremony tomorrow I need to attend.”

“What about Nero?”

“He will have forgotten what transpired tonight. He will only remember the need to see you, but I will not hand you to him.”

“Sounds very... serious. You really like me, Cas?” there’s brief silence then Dean speaks, “Can I come at the ceremony? Don’t want to be left here…”

“Only if you promise to behave.”

“Oh? Behave, you mean like…” Dean turns his body, legs straddling Cas legs as he sits on the lap of the high priest. Cas watches Dean move until they are face to face. Dean wiggles his ass on Cas’ thighs, earning him a bite of the lips from the angel. Dean smirks when he rolls his hips again, pressing hard on Cas’ reacting cock. “Like that?”

Cas only stares at him clearly aroused. Dean draws near and kisses him, arms wrapping around Castiel’s neck. It’s deep and wild, like Dean hasn’t just had sex minutes ago. He runs his hands behind Cas, to his sides, down his hips. He rocks his ass to feel the friction. Cas moans again and Dean misses that. He misses taking control. But he also will not let pass the thought of impaling himself on that dick bursting to be let up underneath his hole. Dean slides his hand beneath him and guides Cas’ dick on his entrance then sits slowly. Cas watches him and the intensity of his gaze as Dean lets him sink inside him is… very arousing. He feels Cas’ length rub inside him, slowly taking over and filling him. The water makes it a little uncomfortable, but Dean manages to sit himself right.

Then he fucks himself to Cas, their foreheads touching.

“Cas…” Dean whimpers when Cas puts both hands on his hips and digs Dean lower. “_Fuck!”_

* * *

Torture is Dean’s field of expertise, having been subjected to more than enough as an ex-slave, ex-prisoner and ex-gladiator. Yet nothing compares to waiting achingly for Castiel to come back from another ritual he performs in temples. Dean swears he hates rituals, and loves it a little too. It does take the High Priest an amount of time to prepare and cleanse himself for the gods. And then when he does, Dean cannot _touch him._ Nothing makes Dean strop badly than not being able to _touch._ But he loves it too for it always has Castiel wear his toga in a way that can make Dean kneel and beg for him forever.

The sun has set by the time Dean found himself stalking in the shadows of the Corinthian pillars on the underground of the temple. He had been waiting just outside the steps after the ceremony, trying his best to withstand the urge to slam the doors of the ritual ground open to take his muse but knew he had to persevere. Shadow soon joined him in his vigil, casting shadows to ornate statues of the god Saturn, yet everything remained still. He waited more and almost became one as the sculpture. He looked like one too with symmetrical chiseled jaw line and perfect cutting high cheek bones. His tight military tunic that shaped his toned muscle only elaborated much of his bulk than hide them. His red, one shouldered pallium that covered half his chest sagged under his weight as he pressed himself back the column, calling, praying that this god of his comes out of the fucking temple already.

With what only feels like affinity to the infinity, the two stone doors from the back opened and Dean’s green eyes opened, his heart thundering in his breast. Even without light, his eyes flashed as he looked around his shoulder and saw _him._

No amount of darkness could hide the High Priest in his pristine white toga praetexta hemmed down his feet, his elongated silhouette shaped by the flowing, draped white garment that highlighted his natural body form that had the gladiator’s mouth water. He loves how they make them do that, the silky wave, the modest covering, the angular drape that never hides anything with clear adoration for body structure. Dean can thank all the gods for granting men the idea of such clothing. It was perfect. Perfect to his muse he practically worships the ground he walks.

The gladiator watches in haze as the High Priest steps at the center of the underground temple. Like a predator on his prey, the ex-gladiator kept still. The priest stops in the middle eyeing the semi-darkness. But Dean doesn’t state whose need is more palpable. As far as he is concerned, both thirsts are equally unquenched. Dean sees him look around expectantly, his smooth forehead crinkling a little, his lips thinning in impatience. But the moment the priest lets the tip of his tongue moisten his chapped lips, Dean lost it. He tumbles forward ungraciously, earning a disapproving glare from the priest.

His blue eyes are all Dean needs for his knees to melt as he surged forward.

“Dean—” there is a halting tone that Dean loves to cut. But the first thing he did before dipping in the nectar of gods is to reach on Castiel’s hair, pushing the white hood hiding his messy dark hair. Dean itched to do that every time. The priest stood still and let him. It was like a ritual between them. The removal of the sacred hood that will follow everything else later. The gods may think Castiel belongs to them hidden in that revered hood and drapes, but once Dean has taken them down, the world knows Castiel is his.

Glinting blue eyes met his in anticipation.

_“Cas.”_ he whines, when he snatched the priest around the middle and traps him on one of the columns eagerly. His hands quickly dig inside the white toga for the touch of skin. His mouth easily covering Castiel’s lips. It did not take any second for Castiel to respond. There is no reason to stop, the kiss is irresistible, earning moans and growls. Soft lips upon the hard graze of teeth. Wild tongues meeting and locking in wild chase. Their legs tangling and pressing for pressure. Their knees finding the spaces that needed fulfillment. Arms lost in the array of white as Dean found the hot skin in the middle and claws on Castiel’s waist. He pulls Cas’ hips to him and grinds his groin on his protruding hip bone. Wind waft out of their chests as they collide, all space forgotten in the intimacy of touches.

Breathing seems an inconvenience when Castiel tries to reach for one, but Dean wouldn’t let him. The kiss soon began to get slower, yet still wet and full of keenness. They waited more than a day ever since the ritual began. Ever since Dean saw him draped in that sinful cloth, Dean wanted to strip him. The thought made him growl deep in the kiss, his right-hand dipping down and grabbing the High Priest’s erection.

_“Dean.”_ Castiel hisses. The warning tone only made Dean swipe the tip of his tongue on the swollen lips. But he let Castiel finish as he trails kisses on his jaw up to his right lobe. Cas instinctively turns his head to give him more access which the man willingly took. Dean’s hand still feeling beneath him.

“We are inside a temple.” Castiel grumbles.

“Your point, master?” he bites Cas’ ears.

A profound pause. He can feel Castiel’s eyebrows quirking.

“You really plan to defile all the sacred grounds in the city?”

“Only with you.” Dean places a chaste lip on his lips, “Wouldn’t matter where as long as it’s you.”

Castiel wraps his arm around Dean. “I hear you say that to every woman you sleep with.”

“No.” Dean slips his tongue inside Cas’ pressed one, urging him to lose the sulking features. Satisfied with the respond, he ends with light kisses on his cheeks. “No one’s good enough as you. _No one’s perfect enough as you. You make me want to get killed every time you walk away in this dress.”_

“No.” Castiel murmurs in his ears, “You’re not allowed to die.”

_“Stop me now and I will.” _

Castiel’s reply got lost in his gasp when Dean begins to stroke him in earnest. The High Priest clutches on the man’s shoulder tightly for support. Dean smiles and looks down. Arousal hit him as he sees the white layers covering his hand where he knows his hand is currently operating. _Sweet. Everything looks sweet. _Leaning forward, he presses his temple on the priest’s tilted chin and let his thumb circle the top of the cock. His hands are melting. Castiel is a hot molten lava. He squeezed.

He loves the sound it prompted from the priest.

_“Dean.” _It was another warning, but Dean knew better now than to stop. Castiel can punish him later.

“You’re too beautiful. Want you now, Cas. You torture me every ritual…”

“I know. Doesn’t that teach you patience?”

“Absolute torture.” He kissed him slow and pull back the priest’s bottom lip meaningfully. He looked him in the eye. The remaining light of the sunset flashed in the priest’s blue eyes who looks Dean like he is everything. Dean loves him and presses for more kiss.

There’s a considerable amount of silence broken by deep moans, covered by the shuffling of moving hands inside the drapes. Dean moves his hands quickly on the shoulders when he finally found the hem and pushed it off the slender blades of the priest. The tangled toga fell on Cas’ shoulders easily to his arms. Dean takes a lean back to brave the sight of his death. In the little light left, he sees Castiel pressed on the pillar, sacred toga off his shoulders revealing refined packed front. His chest heaves despite the controlled breathing, his nipples perked in an astonishing sensitivity, the crack in between his chest inviting. Cas has cleansed himself for the gods. Now Dean is going to mess him and make him cry. Dean bites his bottom lip and raises his eyes to Castiel pleadingly.

“I’ll…” Cas begins, unable to tear his blue eyes away from the man, “pray to the gods not to strike you down till your orgasm.”

The way he says it in full seriousness has Dean grinning. He smashes his lips to the waiting wet surface, hands desperately reaching beneath again. His priest is hard. Dean feels a bead of hot precum at the tip of his thumb. His swaps his thumb at it. Running his palm on the entire length, loving the hardness and weight only he is privileged to touch. The sound coming from the back of the priest’s throat is killing Dean as he trails his wet lips on Castiel’s neck. He nipped at the pulse, loving the movement of Cas’ adam’s apple. Cas smells like blue lotus and scented candles.

“You are setting me on fire.” A rumble vibrated on the throat he is kissing. Cas arches his head back. The bite on his neck

“I’m planning to burn with you, Cas.”

“Bend down. Let me fuck you.”

Dean groans. He’d never get tired of that dirty mouth. With surrender, he let his master turn him around.

“My turn next Saturnalia?” he whispers hopefully, dropping his head on the pillar, his hips grinding down the priest’s rough move, sliding in and out of him. The sound of skin and hot burn in his sides has Dean hissing.

“You plan to make me beg too?” he moved so agonizingly slow, that Dean could feel his desire for friction grow. He pushes back in desperation, wanting to bury Cas inside him.

_“I want to be inside you.” _He grits his teeth.

There’s another pause. Then the pace changed rapidly to hard fuck with Dean pressing roughly on the pillar. Cas hit his prostrate in abandon, both hands holding possessively on the servant’s hips. Dean knows the priest is considering this highly. Despite the unbidden touches shared, the taking of hands in intimate places, Cas has never let himself be entered. Be it from some godly forbiddance, or Cas preference to keep his body the temple of gods alone, Dean has never succeeded in coaxing him. He has been hinting many times he wants to be in there as well. But like the gods himself are his foes, Cas has never consented. Dean was never one to go pliantly with other people’s demands without grabbing his weapon. A man of his temper is not to be denied of anything but with Castiel it’s different. The High Priest is not as forgiving as most people believed him to be. He is firm and prune in his ways. Dean remembers exactly the first time they met in the arena. How Castiel sat with the rest of the world on the cavea while Dean drags his opponent away and then kill of the guards possessed by demons that attempted on the angel's head.

Who knew they'd still be sharing the same bed after everything that happened a month later? It's still a surprise to him when his master clutched him back, draping his body on his back and presses a kiss on his ears and whispers:

_“I love you, Dean."_

Dean gasps as waves of his orgasm shatters his body, mouth open and moaning so loud he is sure the gods would love to strike him now.

* * *

_The High Priest Castiel._

_No, just Cas…_

_Familiar desire and longing sensation built in him. His god was too beautiful even from his clumsy artwork. But he had captured most of the features from his sharp jawline to the arch of eyebrows that even he was satisfied, but it was too good and soon his hand was sliding on his hardening length. The man closed his eyes when his hands worked his erection, stroking wildly and scratching the burn itching in attention. He pressed his free arm on the wall to support his body and opened his eyes to stare at his god. Just this was enough to make him groan in release, his legs weakening as he came on the wall. _

Dean wakes up with a groan as rage of orgasm shook his body. He knew by instinct that his master was working him. He had woken up many days in pleasure and still could not believe heaven sent him this gift. He breathes heavily and looks down. He finds Castiel on top of him, bare and uncovered, slamming deep in his prostrate with undivided attention. Dean’s left leg is propped up Castiel’s right shoulder for better rimming, a hand supporting his ankle. Castiel’s other hand is pressed by Dean’s hips and Dean hissed at the intensity of his thrust. The tight burn inside his skin is overwhelming. He let his head roll back.

_Oh fucking god._

“Cas,” he whimpers, clutching tightly on the soft bedsheet, breaking right under the penetrating blue eyes. Castiel’s eyes gleamed and he bottomed and fucked him hard. Dean lets out sound he will never dare use outside the four walls of the room Dean snuck into. Castiel came inside him.

“You were dreaming.”

Dean chuckles as Cas slid beside him and props an elbow down the bed to stare at him with blue eyes.

“You’ve no idea how interesting that dream is.”

“Was it good?”

“Nothing next to this.” Dean leans down and kisses Cas. When he pulls, he finds Castiel’s eyes on him. “Close your eyes when I kiss you.”

“I like observing you.”

“Yes, I see that but—”

“Does it matter if I close my eyes or not?” Castiel tilted his head with a deadpan expression.

“No, not really. I know—but when women—”

“I’m not your woman.”

Dean catches himself just in time to hear the sour trickle of indifference in the priest’s voice. The man slowly got up from the bed and scratched an itch that wasn’t really on his shoulder. Castiel followed his movement, sitting on his side.

“Are you okay?”

Dean began absently shifting the covers out of his way. The bed felt too fucking soft on his back. He wanted out. “What’s your plan today?” he avoided Castiel’s eyes as he slid his legs on the floor for his tunic.

“I shall attend with the Collegium Pontificum in Domus Publica. We need to discuss the matters of the states in the absence of the Emperor. He has been gone ten months leaving the country in a state of unrest. There has been plenty of suspicious political movements that needs addressing and fire that needs to be put down.”

“That’s your job, huh?” Dean slipped his head inside his tunic, not seeing the disappearing glow in the blue eyes intently watching him. “Whatever happened to focusing on rituals and gods?”

Castiel narrows his eyes and didn’t answer. Dean glanced at him then shrugged. They had been together for a month with intoxication of each other seemingly uncontrollable. And still there are moments when they just drift apart. Dean stood up and grabbed his buckle.

“Will you be guarded well in the office?”

“Praetorian Guards will be there.” Cas hasn’t moved from the bed.

“Last time I saved your neck, it’s a Praetorian guard who tried to assassinate you.”

“It was an isolated incident and the guards have been rounded for any other planted spies. Gad has apologized extensively.”

“Well, you can tell Gad to shove his apology up his ass. You can take this like you want, but I don’t trust any of them Praetorian. Certainly not your Centurion Gadreel. When’s your next ritual?”

“That should be three days from now in preparation for Saturnalia.”

Dean stops for a moment as he adjusted his belt. He remembered their promise last night and it was clear the priest also did. There’s a ringing silence that fell, broken by the Priest himself.

“Will you return tonight?”

Dean whirls to face the priest to find him still on the white bed, legs intertwined above the sheets sinfully. His white complexion almost impossible to indiscriminate from the purity of the sheet. His plush lips red and his neck shoulders full of Dean’s mark. Dean can stare at him for days and it melted some of the hard features on his expression.

“Yes.”

Castiel did not smile. He did not let any expression on except a short nod. Dean grabbed his pallium on the floor and headed out without saying another word. He used the backdoor of the villa without even the knowledge of the servants of the house and was out in the brightly lit pavement of Thursday morn.

Cycle of their relationship in the bed involves Dean sneaking every night in the High Priest’s household, joining him during rituals and processions when Castiel needs extra protection that usually ends in hardcore activities back on the sheet. The first time Dean kissed Castiel, it was after he was arrested and nearly executed by the Praetorian. Castiel came to his aid and had him locked in a room for interrogation. Dean thought them people were prolonging the inevitable death. He doesn’t care much about anything by then, willing to follow his friend in the grave when the doors opened and the High Priest himself came along, wearing his hood close to his face so he would not get recognized.

Dean looks back at the priest who looks around him with mistrust. Dean smiles at him and offers a hand. Castiel quietly takes it.

“Sneaking around is fun, don’t you think?”

“Only if I’m with you.”

Dean laughs. “You tryin to flirt now?”

Castiel grumbles something and it’s adorable because they find themselves in Gracillis’ shop. The old man gives Dean a thumbs up upon seeing him with a white-skinned catch whose face he cannot see. But Dean is grateful because there’s always some privacy when they slide next to the counter, their backs at Gracillis’ shop.

Dean takes a quick nab at the meant presented to him. Cas gives him an arch of eyebrows under his gray hood.

“You do not even plan to offer me anything?”

“Cas, you can order anything you like. But I doubt you’re really hungry.”

Cas looks thoughtful.

“This… what you told me last night… the two of us…”

“I don’t want to press the matter to you, okay? But that’s how I know you’re an angel.” Dean swigs a bottle in his direction, gulping down he casts a look at the angel. “So where do we go? Do we go back to your villa?”

Cas scrunches his nose.

“No. I don’t think it’s wise to go there. And I want to spend more time with you.”

Dean blushes. “So…uh… would you like to go somewhere?”

“Actually—”

“Oi, Decanus, you ass!”

Dean turns around and feels a wet smack of lips on his cheeks. He gets a good look at the bearded man whose hand rubbed hard on his shoulders. Dean grins back at his old friend, rubbing shoulders with him.

“Hey, Cyrus, how ya been?”

“Should be askin the same, I didn’t think you’re still alive. Last time I heard you were sent to the gallows but damn people for all their words when you’re here with another eh? You got another date, aye?” his eyes fall on Castiel who Dean notices, pulls his head down and turn back to the counter. “What very sharp nose, how d’you always get the better lookin sort?”

“Speak about him again and I’ll rip your shoulder out.” Dean warns quietly.

“Peace, you ass.” Cyrus clamps his shoulder again. “Will you be here before… you know…”

The two exchange meaningful glances. Dean grins but his face grew dim at once. “I hear about that a lot around, but are they really? This coming match seems to be gaining plenty of support.”

“The Emperor will be there again. So should you.”

“He’s got his eyes on me already.”

“Who doesn’t? With a piece of ass like yours?” Cyrus wiggles his brows and looks down Dean's backside pointedly. Dean grimaces, especially when Cas clears his throat. Both Dean and Cyrus gives him a side glance- a pointed look. Castiel trains his eyes on Dean's friend, not too intimidating, but yeah, almost enough to make Cyrus step down his flirting. The priest raises an eyebrow when the man almost asks if he's about to make a jealous fit. Castiel keeps his composure, but Dean ends with a winning smirk because yeah, so Cas is the jealous type. He likes that. Raking his eyes on Cas' pout, Dean turns to his friend.

“I’ll see you around.”

“Heh, who’d thought you’d be bottoming in this relationship.” Cyrus obviously received the message from Cas' silent language.

“Shutup. Get off my face.” Dean’s smile falters as he watches Cyrus walk away. It’s only five days and the silent turmoil has already gone this bad. He has got to do something. Like he promised them. Fuck, he’s promised plenty of things to many people already. He wonders if all of this will have effect in their tomorrow.

“Who is he?”

“The guy who trained me and taught me the ropes of being a gladiator.”

“You really are not from this time?”

“You still find that hard to believe?”

“Do you always get taken advantage on in public?”

Dean thinks for a second and he loves that frown on Castiel’s pretty face.

“Sometimes, only if I stay long enough.”

Cas looks back at him with a squint. “You are very handsome, indeed. One of the—no, the only one that ever made me lose my breath… like I’ve known you for a long time, but that’s another feeling I cannot put my fingers into. Like the many times I cannot place you… you are very mysterious.”

“Well,” Dean leans forward, almost whispering on the priest’s lips. “I know one spot where you can put a finger _in.”_

Castiel gives him a narrowed look. The sex in the middle of the city, under the afternoon sun is Dean’s dream. Cas fucks him senseless when they get behind the tavern, there on the wall with Dean’s face pressed while Cas pulls and thrusts in him. It’s nothing like he’s ever taken.

* * *

Dean sleeps with Cas wrapped on his arms in a spoon. Both quiet, yet aware the other is awake, they stay in that position, basking in each other’s warmth and presence. Dean would kiss Cas’ nape, shoulder and back. Would run his hands around Cas’ torso, rubs his hips. Even take his cock and jacks it. Cas only sighs with all his touches, but Dean can’t help it. He loves touching Cas.

Before long, his dick is hard from touching Cas. He rolls his hips and whispers in his ears.

“Gonna fuck you.”

Dean smiles when Cas only moans. The soft fabric of the blanket crumpling as he thrusts forward. Castiel lies still, arching his body in Dean’s every push. They are nearly both coming when Castiel suddenly tenses. Dean feels him go rigid and immediately halts his movements.

“Cas?”

The priest doesn’t speak, but the moment Dean also listens, his eyes widen. Footsteps. There are thunders of footsteps from beneath. Castiel is the first one to act, throwing his full clothed tunic in Dean’s direction. The hunter curses and throws it back. He grabs his own garment and sees Castiel frown at him as they both dressed themselves.

“Cas—”

The door burst open and swarms of armed Praetorian guards sweep the floor. Dean finds himself getting cuffed, but his focus is on Castiel who was also roughly being handled. There are cuffs for him as well—but unlike the dark ones on Dean, it’s a silver—and there are enochian symbols in them. The hunter immediately knows there’s someone else behind this.

The moment the cuff closes on the angel’s wrist, Cas stifles a groan. Dean fights his way towards him but is brought hard on the ground by three guards. Dean makes an attempt to fight them—

“Decanus.” Castiel calls and Dean stills.

They are brought back to the castle almost at once, both bounded and gagged. Dean glowers at everyone watching him like they are in a procession. The night is young but there are torches lit on the path, guards lead them in the center of the field where an altar rose amidst all the fire. Like an arena but smaller. Dean looks up and realizes they are in Forum Romanum and there’s an audience surrounding them. He looks from one face to another; all expressions are haunted.

_Shit._

“Bring him to me.” Orders a lazy voice. Dean looks up and sure enough, there’s the emperor sitting in the middle of the podium on the side. He snaps his head when guards come to take Castiel. Dean growls on his gag, but Cas quietly shuts him with a glare. The hunter blinks, wondering what Cas is up to. He flexes the back of his wrist and sure enough, he can feel the binding is tight. He watches angrily as Cas is brought up the podium beside the emperor. The emperor turns to Castiel with a lazy flicker of his eye lids. Then he flicks a finger to Dean who is immediately drag up as well, only, he’s made to kneel just in front of the Emperor.

Dean has seen this before in many movies, and usually, this is the part where the main character snarls and swears he’d rather die than bow down to the sick leader. He’s planning to do just that because taking the attention of the emperor from Castiel will always be his motive. He has no time to worry about himself when Cas’ is under the enochian cuff. He’s gotta find the key, or die trying.

Glaring his bright green eyes, he’s successful enough to meet the eye of Nero who’s eyes fall on him with a frown.

“Odd sensation… I do not think this is our first meeting.”

“People use to say that a lot just to start makin conversation.” Dean hopes his Latin accent to whatever point, is rude enough to make eyebrows raise. He feels a quick pull on his short hair, fingers scraping on his scalps. He grits his teeth painfully.

_“Speak without respect again and your head rolls on the ground!”_ shouts a loud devoted Roman soldier, pulling a sword on Dean’s neck. The hunter’s eyes only darken.

“Leave him alone.” Dean’s pupils follow the voice to Cas who’s giving the soldier a transfixed look, full of warning. “Or heaven fall upon and you and gods may pity your soul.”

Being still a high priest, bounded or not, the soldier backs away in fear. Dean pulls his head from the man’s grasp, eyes only on Castiel. The emperor turns from him to the high priest. His eyes suddenly shines in understanding and there’s a quirky smile that suddenly appeared on his lips. Dean doesn’t like it.

“I see.” He stands up to face Castiel. “So you have been very busy, it seems. You didn’t even have the time to meet me when I returned from out of the country.” He coyly touches Cas’ chin but the priest pulls away. Meanwhile Dean is seeing red, he tries to stand up but is forced to kneel even more, his knees scrapping.

“I know what you are. I have been informed.” Nero walks around Cas who remains standing with back straight, “You who fell from heaven.”

Dean blinks. Cas frowns. Nero stops on Cas side and turns to his people.

_“The gods have finally responded to us—he gives us power to defeat our foe!”_

Dean doesn’t understand what’s going on, nor does he care why the people are cheering, but he leaps to his feet when he feels the hands disappear from holding him. Before he can reach the first step however, another arm wraps across his chest to pull him back. He looks around to meet the ever-dark eyes of Bacchus.

“It’s you.” Emperor Nero keeps lingering eyes on Bacchus who bows.

“What are you doing here?” Dean hisses but Bacchus ignores him.

“I do not contest the power of the man beside you, but I assure you, if you want a warrior that will defeat the Huns, Valkyries and Spartans, you must know this man—” Bacchus grabs Dean under the left arm, making the hunter blink, “Is much more of value. For one his mark— bears that of Mars, our god for battle and victory.”

Bacchus grips Dean’s shoulder tight, making the hunter growl but when the demi-god pulls his hand away, there’s a red visible mark of an arrow like flames scorched on his skin. Dean grinds his teeth. Looking at the spot of where Cas’ mark used to be. There’s no visible sign of it now. This panics him a little and he throws a look on Cas direction.

Castiel is staring at him with blue eyes wide. Dean heaves breathe, wanting to assure Cas it’s okay. But then—does Cas even remember the claim he’s done has been erased?

The emperor narrows his eyes at Dean’s shoulder, then to Bacchus he says, “Prove it.”

“As you wish.” Bacchus turns to Dean bodily, chest to chest with eyes on the hunter’s face.

“What are you doing?” Dean repeats, but when Bacchus only gives him a silent look, Dean understands. “You’re the one who ratted us out to this guy—!”

Bacchus doesn’t answer.

“In order for his potential to be awoken, he has to fight the beast, my lord.” Bacchus says. Dean’s eyes widen. “To the colosseum.”

There are roars of approval from everywhere surrounding Dean. Only Cas alone mirror Deans apprehension. So it all ends there, in the “arena”. The stage for combat, where gladiators fought in the stage covered by a thin layer of sand. The place where that the gladiators and exotic animals engaged in mortal combat for the entertainment of the Romans and especially the Emperor.

Dean can’t possibly win… and against a beast?

* * *

So it's been setup from the beginning. The mark, the intent trapping. The labyrinth. All because he has to face this entertainment this god of war wants him to... what exactly? Win? Dean doesn't know what's wrong with their head, but definitely something is very wrong with the war-freak god. Who the hell wants to fight a monster?

What more, what's Dean gotta do about Cas? He knows he needs to concentrate, but the angel being exposed to many, he doesn't want leaving the angel in that fate. Humans are far worse than anything when it comes to things they don't understand. He's sure this is one of Bacchus' or Are's plan.

Was this how Bacchus also controlled Prometheus?

Dean hears the thunderous chant and stomping of feet of the crowd above as he stands just at the entrance of his former occupation that took a week to achieve. Everyone knows him of course—the man who killed the centurion. But Cas has protected him after that, from the Praetorian’s attempt to the Emperor. He looks across the filed to where he knows Cas is sitting on his usual chair together with the emperor and treated like royalty.

In retrospect, Dean is glad Cas is away from danger. Yet, he can’t be sure of that because in the presence of the emperor, things do not look okay. And it was the emperor who made it explicitly clear that if Dean does not fight to the fullest of his ability, Cas will suffer.

It’s a No win-win in Dean’s case. So all he can do is to agree with them. He pulls on his cap, wore his gloves, grabs a shield and swords and waits for his name. The name he’s never thought he’d hear in the arena. Didn’t think he’d be walking in the same doors used by the ancient gladiators on their way to the glories and dangers of the main stage. Then again—he’s already one of them, isn’t he?

Bacchus appears in behind him.. Dean doesn’t even bother looking at him when he feels his presence. Quietly, he awaits for Bacchus to reach him. When a touch on his shoulder signals their proximity, Dean quickly grabs his neck and pins him on the wall.

Bacchus smiles and doesn’t resist. Dean growls.

“You son of a bitch!”

“Easy…” Bacchus whispers, touching Dean’s mark and caressing his shoulder. “We’re already exercising your instincts. It’ll be waste if you don’t use it now that your mortal life is in danger.”

“I’m not afraid of death.” Dean hisses.

“But you tremble when it so threatens your angel?”

Dean stares him squarely. “Why are you doing this, Bacchus, huh?”

“Not Bacchus.” Says the man whose dark eyes turn to red. Dean quickly steps away from his touch, seeing the apparition he knows he didn’t just make. This is Mars. He’s talking to Mars.

_“Fuck you.”_ Dean hisses.

Mars inclines his head. “Once the angel’s mark disappears, you will be truly under my control. You will be mine.”

“That’s kinda sick, don’t you think?”

“Fight to the death and you shall see to whom you rightfully belongs. It’s neither the living anymore, Dean… for you are… you have the hands of a beast inside you too.”

Dean flinches the same time his name as Decanus is roared in the stands. He gives Bacchus a glare, then slowly walks to the entrance. He doesn’t show any emotion, just made straight for the stage. He stops when he lifts himself and looks to his left, where the emperor and Cas are sitting. Cas in the podium wearing the silks of high priest. Beside him Emperor Nero with a hand on the priest’s leg. Castiel is silent but his eyes spoke volume.

_“Dean. Return to me. Please.”_

Dean nods. He raises his weapons. The crowd cheers and even in the middle of the night, they are all frantically excited. Then Dean hears something he hadn’t heard in ages.

_Hooves. Fucking hooves._

Finally, a giant boar comes out. Dean forgets breathing. This—this is the sound he’s been hearing for a very long time. This—a prophecy about this has already been made. About how he, Dean, will be impaled by a beast in form of a boar—the boar that had killed this _Adonis_. Dean grits his teeth. He ain’t planning to die, not here, not now. He stares the boar in the eyes, it’s very intimidating. There’s a brief silence where it feels like they are only sensing each other.

The clash happens and Dean’s bloody on the first draw because the boar has tusk. He hears Cas’ shout from the podium so he immediately straightens so as not to worry him. The boar runs around wildly, hitting on the rails, the wooden doors, until it sees him again and charges. Dean fights with all his might, clashing with the tusk, rolling on the stage and stabbing all parts of the already scarred body of the animal. He runs around, knocking over torches that spilled hot flaming gas on the sand. The crowd roars in excitement. Dean springs up from the molting liquid, the boar no so smart as it charges and screams at the top of its lungs.

Dean stops. He watches the boar frantically run around again, then decides it’s over, but how? Something in Dean rings. Fire. He gets fire and use it to the beast. The whole podium erupts and Dean stares. Darkness overwhelms him as fire shows him things—

Dean freezes.

Hell. All he can see it hell. He’s back in hell. The sounds of chain and cackle of demons, the raging fire burning his skin. He screams loud and hoarse. Then he sees Mary—his mother burning in the ceiling with that ever-haunted look. His mother is on fire.

Dean cries. Anguish. Pain and despair.

Rome burned in hellish fire that started when the red tinged sun kissed the sky goodbye. What was to be an ordinary end of day darkness suddenly glowed in fiery inferno, sending chaos and screams to the helpless populace. The evening wind sent the flames rapidly spread along the full length of Circus Maximus, engulfing the closely located wooden apartments, expanding to the narrow streets of Caelian and Palatine slopes.

Clatters on the abandoned streets fed the fire. Timber framed homes and stores with flammable goods left as easy prey to the blaze. No building stood to impede the conflagration. The spread was instantaneous and the city was engulfed in minutes.

A prisoner of war was being transported that night towards his impending execution when the fire was set aflame. Feet chained closely together, rendering him unable to exact any feat of escape, he was one of those first to see the break out from the nearby chariot-racing stadium. It easily turned into a wild rage that set the public into utter pandemonium. His escorts deserted him at the call of aid. The prisoner, seeing the tumult coming his way, rolled on the side of the street, plastering his body on the wall for safety. But no soon had the last steps echoed did he feel the all-consuming fire upon him. Raising his head with face flushed, he cursed the gods for the chains that restricted his movements and began crawling using his worn elbows.

His progress was slow, his body numbing at the exertion and when wooden walls began collapsing before him, he knew he was doomed to die earlier than his expected predicament. He couldn’t help smiling in chagrin at the eagerness of the mortal world to get rid of him when his only sin was fight for his freedom. He knew he’d be fighting for his life till the last drop of his blood.

He hadn’t gotten more than five headway around the fallen objects when something caught his eyes.

A shadow at first in the swirl of hot air, but upon clearing his vision, the prisoner caught a glimpse of an erect figure standing in the middle of oblivion. Flames and ashes swirled in the air as he stood in the middle of the blaze, head tilted up to the heavens while buildings burn around him, flames arch into the golden red sky. He seems to watch everything in fascination. Instincts told the prisoner this was no common man. No sign of terror but eternal grace was his posture, as if he was meant to be there. The man was clad in black cloak that concealed his presence but the prisoner’s eyes have already found him.

Strangely enough, he could not pull his eyes from the regal figure. Something about him, standing there, alone and immovable with no sign of fear captivated the prisoner. An illusion it might be but it would haunt him for the remaining seconds of his life. He knew he was about to perish with the flames but seeing Death with his own eyes didn’t seem that discouraging.

The prisoner’s attention was briefly pulled to the falling woods his way again. He rolled off the pavement and groaned when he was a second late and his right shoulder got struck with a hot scorching beam. Burn seared on his flesh, smell of burning skin filled his nostrils making him grind his teeth in pain. He tried to move from the heavy plank but his eyes started to darken. The pain was immense and if not for the clenching of his right hand, he would think his right shoulder has been torched away. The world was trying to get rid of him pieces by pieces…

Then the heavy feel of wood was gone. The next thing he knew, strong firm hand wrapped around his injured shoulder, gripping the injured skin with its touch, seemingly marking the spot as it raised him from the ground with unimaginable ease. He felt himself get half-dragged, half-carried till his back hit the cold stone of a building while getting a whiff of something extremely enthralling. The prisoner hissed at the smell, unable to control the strong effects on his body, his eyelids fluttering open to look at whoever damnable was there with no gentleness to give to an incapacitated person.

He found himself staring wide-eyed at a pair of deep blue set of eyes that shone like a pair of blue moons in the sea of raging fire. And he was the most beautiful, devastating creation the prisoner had seen in his entire existence that made him want to hold on the last ropes of his life. Just a second longer.

The blue eyes were cold, almost threatening with the glint of daggers hidden beneath the black irises. But the prisoner could not and would not forget his face. The curl of his mouth, the strength of his jaw, the point of his nose, the dominating slant of his eyebrows… were all burning in his eyes, creating a portrait of perfection. This must be one of the gods that deserves all the worship and devotion. He must be a god.

And yes, the prisoner wants him. Even if he was killed by the same man right now, he would still want him.

The blue eyes narrowed at the prisoner’s lucid desire. It felt a long time before the intensity of both their gazes faltered. He let go of the shoulder and the prisoner almost cried at the lost contact, forgetting the pain and only feeling the searing mark of the palm on his skin. He wanted to reach out to him but the rattling of chains reminded him that he was a mere mortal not fit to touch a god. Only to worship them.

A flash of something sharp and sound of shattering chains. The prisoner felt his hands drop dumbly on his sides. The god had freed him. The god had allowed him to touch—

The city continued to burn behind them and when sounds of feet and shouts filled the air, the prisoner saw the man stand. There was one last contact shared as their eyes found each other again, then the man in black robes was walking towards the flames without looking back.

The prisoner watched him disappear in the dancing flames, unable to make a sound. Unable to make words at the emptiness that was briefly filled for a moment, now draining again.

The Death god was gone. The prisoner would have done anything to come with him, would have offered his life for him but he was gone before the prisoner could recover. But his scent lingered and his image forever in his mind. The prisoner looked down his wrists, even the metal cuffs were removed in one strike. Standing on his own, leaning on the wall, he watched the city burn for a long time before turning the other way.

The city was engulfed in flames for the next nine days, extinguishing lives and destroying everything in its midst. This was to be known as the Great Fire of Ancient Rome rumored to be set by the ruler of the land, Nero himself who played with an instrument singing while the city burned down.

But whatever other witnesses’ account would be, the lone prisoner who escaped as a freeman will never forget the god who saved him from perdition. And he will spend the remaining of his life in trying to find him. Even if he needs to set another blaze just to see him standing in the middle of fire again, then he would.

Because he has found Castiel. He doesn’t know how it happens, but everyone else is shouting and crying. When he comes to, he’s kneeling on the sand floor, palms on his eyes and someone tugging on his sleeves.

“Dean—let’s go!” it’s Castiel. He pulls Dean up and weaves the hunter’s arms around his shoulder. But Dean is staring at everything happening around them. Fire. Everywhere there’s fire.

_“Fucking amateurs.” _Gabriel says as he appears in front of the two and takes their shoulders, disappearing on the spot.

And as history have it, Ancient Rome burns to the ground and Nero lets it.


	20. Love Conquers All

** _ _ **

** _Amor Vincit Omnia _ **

* * *

Dean stumbles on his feet, but feels a firm hand on his shoulder. He looks up and finds Castiel looking at him with a questioning stare, almost asking him if he’s okay. Dean gives him an assuring nod. The two then glance around to find themselves back in the Bunker—or at least what’s left of it—and facing the archangel Gabriel who is surveying the two of the with interests.

Dean is growling before he can even stop himself, he steps forward, almost launching himself at the hunter—

_“About damn time!” _Dean advances, but Cas’ strong grip pulls him back.

“Dean, wait—that’s not Gabriel.”

Dean blinks at Castiel, then back at Gabriel who is still smiling pleasantly at them. He then raises his fingers and snaps—his clothes changes to a long, narrowed dress, tunic complete with palla that he almost looks like an Ancient God that he is. He gives Dean and Castiel a funny look, then snap- the two are back in their original clothing before any of this begun.

“What the hell is this?” Dean grumbles, Castiel stepping beside him with a frown. Dean tries hard to keep on his feet, but the wobbling sensation of just being transported in time is hitting his gut like he's just rode an airplane for eight years. He clutches on Cas' shoulder who instinctively hold him close.

"Dean are you okay?" he asks worriedly.

"Fine." Dean mumbles, "What's goin on? Are we really back?"

“Yes. And it's Loki.” Cas says.

Dean’s eyes widen. “He—what?”

“We have actually met, right?” Loki doesn’t quite turn, but Dean finds himself the center of attention. “My absence didn't make your heart go fonder? Well... I don't blame your reservation. They say wherever I go they say, mischief follows.” The mysterious glint in his dark eyes has the hunter cracking his memory and trying to put things together. The beginning of Ragnarok, the moment Gabriel arrived on the nick of time, the weapon- this god here whom he met and watched the real Gabriel kill, now standing opposite him in the same modern attire. The god seems to acknowledge him trying to figure things out and smirks the same way Gabriel would.

"I told you, you humans are nothing to gods. But you really seem to be an exception, Winchester. Imagine Mars tracing my essence from when we haven't met for a long time. Its cause your soul... isn't even describable as human anymore. Your experience from hell, battle with the supernatural... it has changed you. But what stamps your seal with Mars? You got an angel wrapped around you. We, the pantheon, do not think highly of these puppets this false god 'Chuck' created. So one way or another, consider it the reason why you were chosen."

That's when it hits Dean.

"You... you're the one who set up Mars in my direction!"

Loki takes a moment, but he nods his head with a smile.

Castiel is thundering to the god without a second hesitation, Dean quickly taking up the rear but when Cas' about to reach him, Loki disappears and appears behind the two.

"I only just saved you from the mouth of death from Ancient Rome and this is how you repay me? Or is it because I threatened Ragnarok? It's the only way for me to get the attention of the gods-"

"I don't give shit about what you plan to do with your petty issues with the old gods," Castiel snarls, Dean wrapped around him to stop him from jumping at the Trickster. "NO! I take it personally when you deliberately put Dean in danger!"

"So it's still about the human."

"Why did you send us there?" Dean keeps Cas close. “You were playing Gabriel and you got us- but to what end?"

Loki cocks an eyebrow. Dean doesn’t quite follow, Castiel seething beside him.

“Actually, I was the one trying to prevent it. Mars, my Ares, wanted to destroy this world, his temper per usual is at its worst so when he hears that Chuck flips the switch, he decided to jump in, chaos running in his name, see. But I decided no. There's no better place than live now in the 21st century. I needed something to distract him, to lower his adrenaline, keep him entertained. Mars has been known to be very... selective of his partners and that's when you came in, Dean. It's a simple baiting procedure and lucky you I have just the man to use for Mar's attention."

"Why me?"

"Heard about his little fling about Adonis? Come on, classic literature. Beautiful man cheats on him, got angry and had him killed with his favorite bull horn, remember?"

Dean frowns. "Adonis cheated...oh." he turns to Castiel who's already looking at him in understanding. "Adonis and the god of war had a thing? What's that got to do with me?"

"Sometimes you're just too dumb for your looks." Loki chastises. "Why else would I send Mars your way if I didn't think he'd see you as one of his potential mate? Mars have inkling to mortals, but seeing you are already claimed..." he wiggles his eyebrows at the angel who looks just about to smite him.

"You used Dean..." the angel whispers, full of acid. Dean sees the angel raise his hackles, ready to defend. It makes him suddenly realize that he and Castiel are standing on the same ground again. The thought knocked him out and he finds himself staring at the angel. The angel who finally remembered him. He and Cas. They're safe.

Castiel takes a step forward, undaunted at the prospect of facing another pagan god. Loki raises his eyebrows and shakes his head, pointing at Dean. "Tell me he isn't an Adonis, angel, and I'll stab my face."

Castiel looks almost ready to volunteer to do it for him. But words come rushing out of the angel's lips, loud and clear.

"Dean's the most beautiful soul in the universe! Don't even take him as something only valuable because of his physical embodiment. Stop treating him like a toy! And yes, he's very beautiful. But he's mine. Mess with him again for your own gain, I swear you'll live with my angel blade always behind your neck."

Loki whistles. Dean's lost it. Right then he doesn't care what it was that Loki wanted or whatever hellish reason was behind every schemes. He's got Castiel back. The Castiel that has fallen in love with him. Somehow there are many things he wants to tell the angel, but he can also take a breather and just lie on the bed with Cas. So many things have happened. So many changes and yet...

"This is how I am going to be thanked for trying to save the universe?" Loki says, amused and something else. Must be a trick.

"Oh, please." Dean rolls his eyes, crossing his arms that wants to reach for Cas. But that's for their moment. When is their moment? When is this fucking butthole going to disappear from their lives? "You just went ahead and did what you want. Getoutta here."

"See? At least someone appreciates my help. Thank you, Dean."

"We have different understanding of appreciation. But do tell," Dean frowns heavily, his back still aching from all the action scenes because this world and its fucking gods can't just stop making roll on the mud. "You only want us to burn Rome, didn't you?"

Loki pauses. Castiel's eyes narrows. "Did you?"

"It's meant to happen. Eventually. With all the... too many sins happening. Even the gods themselves are getting carried away. They had to be reminded that everything can turn into dust. By just adding the right ingredient."

Dean turns to the angel whose just staring at the god like he's sprouting five head of dragons, which may have been real depending on the point of view.

"What the hell are you talking about?" 

“Isn’t it obvious? I wanted to save this forsaken world where no god or almighty cared enough.”

“Yeah, right. You want to run that line again, I don’t think you mean what you just said.”

“Whatever I mean, there’s only one purpose why I sent you there because I know he will follow you. You've been marked. He will want to see you die because of betrayal. I only needed a bait to sends his ass as far away from this era. But I will be needing the blade now, Dean. You know that can kill real beings like me.” He advances on Dean, Castiel watching his every move with narrowed eyes.

"Yeah, shouldn't have told me that in the first place." 

The Trickster's eyes turn to steel.

"You saved the world, Mr. Winchester. Isn't that enough?"

Dean surveys the Trickster, then slowly holds his hand out for the Trickster to reach. Castiel's palm quickly wraps around his wrist, drawing closer to the hunter. Loki watches the two quietly, then he reaches to Dean but the angel holds glares at him in warning.

"Put Dean in danger like that again, I'll make it my personal mission to be your hell."

"Duly noted." Loki replies, not smiling, "You have a reputation even among the old gods, Castiel. No one wants to live knowing you'd be in their back all the time."

"Get on with it." Dean says, his free hand wrapping around Castiel's waist so the angel is essentially leaning on him. Cas doesn't budge and fire and he might as well breath fire. There's a threatening atmosphere, but Dean doesn't stop it. Loki shakes his head and pushing to Dean’s chest. Dean feels warmth on the spot and then when he looks down, Loki is holding a wooden blade. The hunter blinks and Cas pulls him back.

“I wanted you to kill Mars.” Loki says conversationally. "Or at least keep him entertained while your brother and I return the sun to it's place. Which by the way has been returned. You guys just had to survive there."

‘What happens to Mars? Is he coming back for Dean?" there's a hard edge on Castiel's voice.

“No. Mars only awakens to the world once there is a need to fill his lust for violence and destruction. Once that is sated, he will disappear from the world again. What happened in Rome... the burning of the entire city, that's what he wantd. He’s still there, and if I’m not mistaken, has already found the man to be the embodiment of war. You never thought about what happened to that freaky little emperor of Rome?"

"Nero burned half Rome's empire." Dean states, matter-of-fact. "That crazy son of a bitch."

"That he is." Cas replies. Loki gives the angel a mysterious look.

"Prometheus lost his memory too."

Dean feels Cas stiffen around his arms. He throws the Trickster a look. "Mars got him under his wraps. The same with Bacchus. They were both under his influence."

"Well." Loki shrugs like it doesn't concern him. He flicks his hand and disappears again, leaving Cas and Dean starring at each other.

“Dean…” Cas murmurs and Dean kisses him with all his body, his heart—because _they made it._ And he’s got Castiel and Castiel has him. He feels every inch of Cas' lips, their foreheads leaning together, hands on each other's cheeks, holding the other so preciously, afraid the moment may end.

"Cas..." Dean breaths, pulling on the angel's bottom lips, hips grinding next to him, "Cas, I love you."

"Dean..." he whispers back on the hunter's mouth before dipping in, angel tongue taking over as Castiel wraps his hand around the hunter's neck, dragging him much closer, noses pressed together. There are many things Dean wants to tell Cas. He knows Cas knows it too- that they both survive, that it changes things. That they both can be together like this forever-

But then- darkness looms behind then angel. Dean starts as a being—something of a figure—an entity emerges. Cas turns and his horror is shown when the figure smiles. Dean immediately thinks of danger—of this being he could not understand.

But Dean knows what it is.

_The Empty._

He shouts Cas’ name as the angel gets engulf by darkness—and in those seconds Dean think he'll die with him. Horror plunges in his heart and he knows he would have jumped in that void too if that miracle did not happen. Amidst the darkness, red light brightens the room and a beautiful goddess flashes itselfin the middle of blinding light.

_Venus._

The Empty staggers and moves back, hissing and spitting at the image but nothing is far more powerful than the goddess of love. Dean briefly remembers the offer of aid of the goddess, a show of gratitude for saving the Vestas.

Now the goddess comes even in this time, to save Cas, the love of his life.

The Empty retreats and is banished, leaving Cas with bright blue eyes, wide and confused. He stares at Dean while the hunter gives the image of the goddess a sigh. When all the brightness has disappeared, Dean glances at Castiel, lunges at him and gives him a tight hug. He hears Sam’s voice shouting from somewhere, finally making his appearance, but Dean doesn’t let go of the angel.

Then he pulls back, anger simmering in his expression.

_“What the hell was that?”_

* * *

He glares at Castiel who doesn't move from the chair he is currently leaning to. Dean crosses his arms.

"Explain."

Castiel looks at Dean, then to Sam who finally comes out from his shell after all the ruckus outside his room. Dean learns that Sam realized it wasn't Loki when the archangel suddenly heals from his grave injury and smiles at Sam wickedly.

"He explained everything to me, and since then I keep reminding him to rescue the two of you. He keeps saying you're still on the mission of distracting the god. .. and uh... that." he doesn't say anything more the moment Dean rounds on the angel.

"The Empty." Dean says darkly, "Talk."

Castiel blinks down his shoes, then up at Dean looking weary. Dean wants to wrap the angel in his arms, but only crosses his arms on his chest in the process. Castiel takes his time, and then tells them about Jack in heaven, about the Empty invading it. About the deal he made without hesitation. How the Entity accepted and gave his condition. About what Castiel's happiness will cause him.

After a beat, his eyes moisten.

"I'm sorry, Dean."

"You lied. Again." Dean burns his eyes on the floor, not wanting to show how really angry he is because Cas can read his body language fine. 

"I know." he doesn't defend himself. Dean stays silent for awhile, then looks at Sam.

"Could you leave us alone?"

Sam looks at his brother in disbelief. Doesn't matter that he is feet taller, Dean is the oldest and Sam gets up, leaving quietly like he didn't just enter, leaving the hunter and his angel.

"Dean-" Cas begins helplessly, like they are back to square one- that nothing happened there in Ancient world and they're just Cas and Dean. But before words can truly form, Castiel is pushed mightily back on the pillar wall, Dean kissing the life out him as he scrambles to get to Cas- hands snaking behind the angel's neck, pulling on those threads, buttons, coats, all falling apart on the floor as Dean brings Cas' legs up to his waits, lips not leaving the angels.

He's far too fucked up to get angry at Castiel now. Far up in love to even let Castel get out of his sight. So he kisses him like his whole life depended on it and Castiel embraces him. Saturnalia or not, Ancient Rome or not, this is now their reality. A reality where they can no longer and will never let the other leave.

So when Dean takes Cas in his room and breathe air on his lips, whispering promises, Castiel agrees and promises his whole life will be for Dean.

* * *

Dean skips the google ad and made a mental note to have Sam block everything with his firewall when the man himself came sauntering in the Bunker library carrying his laptop.

“You look scary.”

Dean gives him a leveled stare and reach for his bottle, dunking it to his lips without a word. Sam frowns as he sat opposite him, eyeing the bottle with disapproval.

“Isn’t that too early?”

“Or you woke up too late.”

“Didn’t you sleep?”

“If forty winks couldn’t cut it, nothing can.” Dean says briskly, “Memory foam’s not been up to its full selling point lately and apparently there’s an online subject of morning being too short and evening dragging along way ahead Elsa’s favorite season. Had to test it out. Turned out debunked in my night shift.”

“Explains the red eyes.” Sam nods leaning back on the chair with arms crossed. “You heard whats on the news? About the sun disappearing for awhile? Heard it messed up with international date line. Now NASA’s explaining it’s got to do something with the uh… _Apophis asteroid…_ that’ll come close by the earth in 2029.”

“How’d they connect the dot in this one?”

“I don’t know, but you know science just got to have their answers.”

“I’ll give them an answer: pissed off _gods.”_ Dean’s eyes narrow, “All this apocalyptic stuff, but did it decrease crime rate? No. Turns out the more people find out Apocalypse is near, the more they do ‘YOLO’ stuff.” Sam chuckles.

“You mean like you?”

“I am my own code.” Dean quirks his eyebrows. “E-3D.”

“What’s that?”

“Every day is dying day.”

Sam snorts in a mixture of disapproval and amusement. He then gives his brother a once-over and frowns. “So, how are you feeling?”

“Right now? I need more booze.”

“And sleep.”

“Yeah, well, if we’re lucky, your asteroid can shut all lights out again then I’d take the second chance. I need a hunt.”

“Dude,” Sam looks at him seriously, “so uh... you and Cas?"

Dean grimaces and Sam quickly ducks on his screen. “I’ll include everything even the porn popups.” His long fingers begin the click-clacking sound.

“Good. They usually give Cas a total eclipse when he finds them anyway.”

"Where is he?"

Dean falls silent almost immediately. Sam’s fingers clacking on the keyboard slows down a little and Dean tries to ignore the attention his younger brother is giving him. Of course, Sam will be concerned. Things are still pretty much messed up as of late with him and the angel and whenever that happens, good ol’ Sammy always plays the referee. Dean wishes Sam would drop it, but his brother is asking for it anyway.

"In my room, asleep. Even angels can't have too much fucking."

"Dude! Gross!" Sam winces, "That's my best friend--ughhh!"

Dean smirks. "We're fine. We will always be fine."

“What about the Empty thing?"

"Won't take him... won't ever let him get taken." He got lucky this time... what if he didn't have the goddess of love as backup? What of Cas? The thought still makes Dean sigh and hold his head. "I wouldn't know what to do without him, Sam."

Sam just watches him.

“Look, you remember what he did?” Dean’s own quiet voice is new to him, “I don’t know how many times I’ve tried to wrap it up my brain to see if it another way, but no. It doesn’t change a thing. The fact is—he lied to me—_ he lied about this fucking deal! And what’s that mean to me, huh?_At the same time, I can't lose him anymore."

Sam has this passive look he gets every time they talk about their mom Dean couldn’t stand looking at. Sam has every right just as him to get mad. But Sam is his own man. Sam wraps his ropes differently than him. Sometimes Dean thinks it’s unfair with how his brother always solves his trauma in silence. Then he remembered that’s really two pots burnt and black.

“I wouldn’t put it that way, Cas was trying to save Jack.” Sam replies, “He always does.”

“Yeah, probably why I don’t wanna forget it, cause once I do—” Dean grinds his teeth. “I’d love him more. But what Cas did… f_orgive and forget_ just isn’t on the cards yet.”

“Yes, but Cas does that. Because he loves us. You did the same thing..."

"That's why I understood.

Dean falls silent. "Enough about me, how about you? Still on the meds for pain?"

"Oh. Well, call it luck or what not but on the flip side of things, Dean? Trickster got some trick up his sleeve." With that, he pulls his sleeves to show off the clean skin on his shoulder. The bullet wound is gone.

* * *

Dean grumbles on the table. He knows Cas is still in his bedroom, he hears Sam by the kitchen preparing him dinner. He stays quiet for a moment, then grabs his phone and calls Cas' number.

His heart sinks when it takes six ring before the angel picks up. Dean hears clutter in the background and suppresses a frown.

"Cas?” he presses the phone too hard on the side of his face.

There’s a brief silence. 

_“Dean?" _Dean smiles, imagining Castiel's confuse expression, "Where are you? I thought you're in the library?"

"I am, relax, just calling to see how you're doing."

There's a moment of silence.

_"You could'n't just come here and join me? I just came out of the bathroom."_

Dean gulps with a wave of something familiar in his stomach. "Don't bother getting clothes then... I'll be there in a bit."

_"Bit? Why?" _Dean likes the mild disappointment in his voice._ "Do you want to pick a fight on the phone?"_

"What? no! A-are you?”

_“No. Not really, Dean.” _Castiel sounds both hesitant and curious. _“Are you?”_

“No. No, I’m done.” And that was the truth. He was beat, and tired and feeling shit for the vulnerability he goes through after the storm. “I just wanna go back to how things were, y’know?”

Cas must be processing what he said, otherwise the angel did not understand because it takes him a minute to answer. When he does, his reply is soft, like he really means it, and Dean believes he does.

_“Me too, Dean. Now come here, I missed you.”_

“Cas?”

_"Yes, Dean?"_

"I wanna marry you, you know. Like, really legally marry you, make you really my forever to be."

_"In short, you want to tie me down and strip me naked of freedom?"_

"What? No! I mean- yes!"

_"It does sound appealing. But freedom, I'd gladly give that to you too."_

And then Dean’s laughing.

He doesn’t know for how long but he laughed his lungs out, head thrown forward the table, his shoulders shaking, his tummy hurting. It feels so foreign, laughing like this. Then Dean remembers he hasn’t laughed like this in a long while— so long that his body is thrilled by it. So he laughed to his heart’s content till he’s almost coughing and Cas is talking on the other side in his usual baritone lace with concern.

_“Are you alright, Dean?”_

“M’fine.” Dean chuckles, wiping the tear at the corner of his eye. “Damnit, man. Couldn’t you give me at least a warning before pulling on a gun like that? What if I was eating? Could’ve choked me to death.”

_“I’m sorry.” _Cas hesitates. “_Were you in the middle of a meal?”_

Dean grins on the phone and he feels silly when he sees his reflection on the laptop screen so he shut it down and stands up.

“No, Cas, it’s alright. I let Sam prepare dinner— huge mistake—I can’t figure why I humor him. You know how this ‘no sun’ has Sam freaking out with this photosynthesis thing? I thought he’d be a changed man, so guess what he served?”

_“What?” _Dean can almost see the quirk of Castiel’s smile. The hunter snickers, shaking his head.

“_Bacon and kale!_” He hears Cas tiny gasp cut short and Dean nods indignantly with the scene in the kitchen playing in his head over again, “And I quote what he calls it, _‘vegan kale caesar salad with _uhh.. something _aubergine ‘bacon’_. Bacon that turned out to be a crunchy bark of tree! I mean, hell— who disrespects bacon like that enough to christen paprika thingy with that holy name? I know we’re runnin low on meat, but it’s literally end of the world and I’m not plannin’ on spending my living lights digesting grass.”

_“It does sound intimidating. Do you have any idea why Sam would punish you with kale?”_

“Ruined his yogurts when I left it above the fridge.”

_“Oh.”_

“—on my defense, there’s no space for a pound of meat and mozzarella cheese in there. They cost me bucks, dude.”

_“I see why Sam would be upset. He has reminded me constantly not to leave the refrigerator open or leave the boxes of yogurt when we go shopping. They are milk and they corrode quickly. But I don’t see you putting up with kale, what did you have for dinner?”_

“I haven’t the mind to eat. I'll prepare burger. Want one, Cas?"

_“It’s already 10 o clock.”_

"Yeah so? There's no crime eating in the bedroom, right?"

Castiel chuckles meaningfully and Dean is scandalized for brief second. "Castiel, what are you thinking right now, huh? Stop laughing like that, like you're getting off on your own."

"I am getting off on my own, Dean. I'm sitting in your bed naked right now."

Dean gasps. "That's cheating."

_"Then come to bed already."_

"No, I still wanna tease you."

_"If it's just teasing, I can come out of this room and walk right to you with Sam watching."_

"_Fuck... _you're making me hard, Cas. At least wait for me to be there."

What's keeping you long?"

Dean falls silent for awhile, thinking of everything he wants to say, only wrapping into a single thought.

"_Dean?"_

“Cas? Wanna… wanna go for a trip? Let’s go blaze and glory to Rome.”

_“… but you hate flying and I can’t exactly zap us both—"_

“Then we fly the common way. Passports and gstrings.”

_“You hate air planes.”_

“Cas… I fucking travelled time for you, you think an airplane’s gonna stop me now?”

_"Apparently, my voice is'n't even enough to call you back here."_

"You know I'm hard, alright?"

There’s a chuckle from the other side that made Dean’s heart flutter.

_“Dean"_

"Yeah, Cas?"

"_The burger can wait. Come to bed. I want you."_

Dean leaves the table and Sam's bad singing, his smile reaching his eyes. He imagines going back to ancient rome, imagines the places he and Cas left behind. He imagines finding the ring and giving it to his angel because hell, yes.

He will marry Cas.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you! I'll put more once I rest my head cause damn this is long I haven't been able to make any proofreading


End file.
